


Make A Wish When Your Childhood Dies

by TheAsexualKingoftheUniverse



Series: Promise Me That When I'm Gone You'll Kill My Enemies [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alfred being better than everyone, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Batfamily Feels, Bruce Wayne is Jewish, Bruce Wayne isn't a great parent, Cass is great, Depression, F/F, F/M, Family bonding through angst, Gen, Getting Back Together, Jason Todd is mixed-race and latino, Jason and Tim being meme trash, M/M, Multi, Rape/Non-Con is in the past and is only referenced in conversation, Suicidal Ideation, Tim Drake is Asian, Tim Drake is Jewish, Tim is a lot of things, Tim-centric because yes, Torture, but he's trying his best and improving, emotional conversations!, everyone is bi because I'm right and I should say it, inappropriate use of nursery rhymes, lots and lots of angst, several people almost blocked me over the angst but that's okay because
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-23 23:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 44,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17692820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAsexualKingoftheUniverse/pseuds/TheAsexualKingoftheUniverse
Summary: Tim is retreating from the Batfam. When Damian notices, he immediately considers the terrible ramifications of this (only for the vigilante scene and not at all for his feelings, of course). He sets off on a one-bird mission to return his older brother to the flock. Unfortunately, the best-laid plans of men and robins are oft led awry, especially when clowns become involved...





	Make A Wish When Your Childhood Dies

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and thank you for clicking on my fic! This is the first piece I've written for DC (one was published before this, however). It's kinda funny considering I've been a fan for years (Batman was my favorite as a kid, which explains...the everything about me). Fair warning though, it's been a while since I read any actual comics so I'm not super sure of recent character developments. I'll be making an author's notes post on my Tumblr later this week lol. I'd like to thank my beta, [ Rory ](http://quiet-strength.tumblr.com), and my friend [ Cherry](https://branwenrose.tumblr.com) for putting up with me writing this and listening to me ranting these past few months. This wouldn't have happened without you guys.
> 
> The title is from "S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W" by MCR because it's 2019 and I'm still emo trash.

Tim was sitting atop a skyscraper, feet swinging over the edge, watching the city through half-closed eyes. It was a quiet night for Gotham, which simultaneously put him on edge and lulled him towards much-needed rest. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept; sleep deprivation was a state that had become depressingly normal in his life.

“Tt. Slacking off, Red Robin?” A loud voice from behind him split the silence. Tim startled, barely stopping himself from plunging off the building.

“Oy vey, Robin, give me a little warning next time.”

“No,” Damian snarled, as the brat glared at him. A dull throb started behind Tim’s eyes.

“I don’t have time for this,” he grumbled, grabbing for his grappling gun.

“Wait! An…unpleasant situation has arisen.”

“An unpleasant situation? I’m terrified. What, did you get cast in the school play? Forced to join choir? Get assigned to write a personal reflection on your growth as a human being? Or- _gasp_ \- were you finally wrong about something?”

“Tt. You have been spending too much time with Red Hood,” Damian replied. Oddly enough, the kid did seem pretty tense. Tim sighed.

“Just spit it out, Robin.”

Damian muttered something in response.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that. Try again.”

“Tt. I require your assistance on a case.”

“Huh. Really?”

Damian looked like he was in physical pain.

“Yes.”

“Ask me nicely,” Tim demanded.

“Please help me out with my case,” Damian replied in a defeated voice. He looked like a cat that had just been dunked in a tub of water.

“No,” Tim said. Panic flashed through Damian’s body.

“I’m just fucking with you, Robin, of course I’ll help.”

“Excellent. We will finish your patrol, then I will brief you on the details.” Damian took a running leap off the building, swinging to the next on his grappling line. Tim sighed again before following after him.

* * *

After the single most awkward patrol of his life- and that was including the one directly after Bruce decided to give him The Talk- he and Damian arrived back at the cave.

“Where’s B?” Tim asked, peeling off his domino with a slight wince as the adhesive tugged on his skin. _Oy vey, I need to get R &D looking into an adhesive that doesn’t take a layer of skin with it when it comes off. _

“Father is out on Justice League business. Terrence has been sent to the Kent’s and Alfred is here is Father’s stead, but Grayson has informed me in his typical insufferable manner that he is ‘always available to help with whatever.’” Damian did a disturbingly accurate imitation of Dick’s voice that sent chills down Tim’s spine. He kept forgetting that Damian could mimic voices.

“Yeah, don’t take him up on that. The last time I asked him for help when Bruce was out he tried to bake me brownies. Let’s just say that that night is the reason the kitchen got completely remodeled and Dick got permanently banned from cooking here and leave it at that.” Damian had an interesting look on his face, like he was torn between critiquing Tim for needing help and critiquing Dick for being a human disaster, but he just sat down and logged into the computer.

“There has been a string of robberies in the downtown area recently. The thieves hack security systems and break into stores after disarming the systems. They seem to have some sort of forewarning, as they disappear before we or the police can get there. So far, the police have been unable to trace the hacker and they appear to be targeting these stores randomly. Father decided this was an easy case for me to take while he was gone as these men do not appear to be violent,” Damian said, clearly unhappy at the idea that he needed an ‘easy’ case.

“So what do you need my help for?”

“Tt. I am not a hacker. _You_ are a hacker. This case is not important enough to bother Oracle with, and she is off on some mission anyways. Therefore, I am asking you to help me hack the hackers.”

“Fine,” Tim grumbled, “Just get me some strong coffee. Also, you owe me one.”

“One what?”

“One favor.”

Damian scrunched his nose up in distaste. It would have been adorable if it wasn’t incredibly irritating.

“Tt. Why should I owe you a favor for you doing your own job?”

“Because my job description doesn’t read ‘doing Damian’s work for him,’ dingus. Now get my damn coffee so I can try to figure out who _your_ robbers are.”

Damian let out a huff before stalking up the stairs to the manor. Tim turned to the screen and began reading through the case file.

* * *

Damian stared at the coffee maker like it was a particularly cheerful Dick Grayson, which is to say with irritation, exhaustion, and mild confusion.

“Why is it,” he said to the empty kitchen, “That the coffee maker has more buttons than the Bat Computer?” The kitchen did not answer him, as it was a kitchen. 

After quickly looking up the directions and fussing with the device for a few minutes, he began to make what he hoped was a strong espresso beverage. Damian was not overly fond of coffee himself, but Drake seemed to subsist entirely off of the stuff, so he figured it must have some value. This chemical dependence the other bat seemed to display had been added to his list entitled “Strange Observed Behaviours of One Timothy Drake.” The list was disturbingly long.

Damian would be the first to admit that his relationship with Drake was strained at best and that this possibly had something to do with his poor treatment of him. He’d been content to leave it in its current state until he realized something while on patrol one day: Timothy Drake was withdrawing from the family and becoming increasingly reckless and no one else seemed to have noticed or be doing anything about it.

 _Well that’s not entirely true,_ he thought as the coffee maker dinged, _Father has likely noticed and chalked it up to normal young adult individuation rather than distrust and abandonment issues, because Father is an idiot and assumes every child is like Grayson. And Grayson has probably either noticed but doesn’t know what to do or has not noticed because he is stupid. Todd is useless in all emotional matters...as well as many others. Alfred has not seen Drake often enough -when we are not in crisis -since he began observing these behaviors to assess him properly. Brown is…Brown, and she and Drake do not seem to be close anymore. Possibly due to the aforementioned abandonment issues and Brown faking her death. And Cassandra is in Hong Kong and therefore cannot notice this. Duke does not know Drake well. Terrence is five and therefore does not yet have the mental faculties for long-term surveillance._

Loathe as Damian was to admit it, Drake was a necessary part of the family. His investigations had a very high success rate, he was intelligent enough that Damian’s grandfather had noticed and valued him _alive_ , and he had well-honed fighting capabilities that rivaled Damian’s own. But perhaps the most admirable trait that Drake possessed was the fact that he was remarkably stubborn. Against numerous odds he had somehow persevered and even Damian had to admit that he was a force to be reckoned with. The loss of Drake would have catastrophic consequences for not only the family but the world and hero community at large, and therefore Damian had taken it upon himself to draw him back into the fold before Drake let himself die.

Or worse. It was a slippery slope from trying not to save oneself to actively trying to die. Thankfully, Drake had yet to display the latter behavior.

The coffee maker dinged and he took the cup out of it. He descended once more into the Cave and set the cup of coffee by Tim’s left hand. The other boy mumbled a quick ‘Thanks,’ not even looking away from the computer.

Damian watched as Drake worked, silently scanning lines of text and then rapidly typing something every once in a while. He worked for two hours before raising his arms, cracking his neck, and stretching.

“There’s your robbers, brat. They’ll be hitting a jewelry store tomorrow. Location’s plugged into the navigation system of your motorcycle. They seem easy enough to nab. So if that’s all, I’m headed home.”

“You are too exhausted. You should remain here tonight,” Damian said. Tim grinned.

“Aww, Damian, do you actually care about me?” He taunted.

“Tt, no. It would be a disgrace to the family if you were found dead in a ditch, not to mention a serious breach of security.” Satisfied that Drake would stay, Damian marched back up into the manor. Tim sighed and followed him up the stairs.

“This fucking kid,” he muttered.

* * *

Tim woke up the next morning to the sound of laughter, which was a definite indicator of Dick Grayson’s presence, as he was the only family member that laughed as freely as that.

_Shit, what the fuck is he doing here? And, more importantly, how long can I avoid him for?_

Tim lay in bed for a moment longer, taking in the ceiling of his old room. This room had once been his safe place, his refuge from his empty house and absent parents. It had been painstakingly upkept by Alfred, but it was as cold and alien to him as Drake Manor now. The thought sent a sudden bolt of pain through him.

_I really am destined to be alone, huh._

With a sigh, he rose and went to the bathroom to get ready for the day. When he was done, he walked over to the walk-in closet, which he had thankfully had the foresight to keep stocked with outfits for all occasions. He selected a jet black Dormeuil suit with a white shirt and ice blue silk tie. He fastened some platinum cufflinks and a matching watch before slipping on a pair of black patent leather cap-toe Oxfords. He turned to the mirror.

The boy staring back at him was self-assured and calm, confident of his place in the world. He was an impeccable mask.

“Confidence breeds competence,” Tim instructed the boy before turning to head downstairs.

Sure enough, Dick was there, seated atop the island and eating Lucky Charms straight from the box. Damian was sitting at the table, reading a book in what looked like Arabic.

 _Note to self_ , Tim thought, making a beeline for the coffee maker, _learn Arabic. Useful for dealing with both Ra’s and the demon baby. Two assholes, one language._  

“Good morning, Tim!”

“Hi, Dick. What’re you doing here?” Tim grumbled, still not fully awake.

“Alfred had to join up with B so I’m babysitting,” Dick replied, grinning brightly enough to blind someone. Damian slammed his book down.

“For the last time, Grayson, I am not an infant and I do not require monitoring!”

“Shut up, Damian, you’re nine,” Tim snapped.

“Tt. I am ten years of age and you should know this, Drake.”

“Why? Because I’m invited to your birthday parties?”

“I do not _have_ birthday parties, as I am not an infant.”

“That’s sad, Damian,” Dick interjected, “Everyone should have birthday parties.”

“I’ve never had one,” Tim remarked, sitting at the table, “Also, what’s for breakfast?”

“Tim, you can’t just drop a bomb like that and then-”

“Muffins,” Damian interrupted as he passed Tim the platter.

“Damian, don’t encourage-”

“Thanks. Also, if we’re having an impromptu family reunion, where’s Jason?”

“Dead,” replied Jason, dramatically dropping into the room from the ceiling vent, “Hey, muffins.”

“Is anyone going to listen to me?” Dick shrieked.

“No,” they answered in unison. Dick looked a little bit like he wanted to cry.

“Aww, look, Tim, Dickie-Bird’s upset,” Jason mocked.

“It’s terrible, Jan Brady of the Bat Family. Someone should comfort him.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

“You’re both children,” Damian interrupted, “Grayson, don’t cry. It’s unbecoming.”

“This house is a fucking nightmare,” Tim quoted. Jason snorted and high-fived him.

“Grayson, what are they referencing? I demand to know.” Dick was laughing too hard to answer him. Once he’d calmed down, he turned to Jason.

“What’re you doing here, Jase?”

“I heard the big man was out, so I came to steal food from Alfred. Because duh. But fuck what I’m doing here, I want to know what _Tim’s_ doing here.”

“I’m eating a muffin, Jason. See, this is why people call _me_ Detective and not _you_.”

“Literally who the fuck calls you Detective?”

“Ra’s al-Ghul.” Everyone else stared at him.

“I’m going to ignore that,” Jason said, “In favor of pretending for five fucking minutes that this family is not that fucked up. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“You tried to kill me twice, Jan,” Tim remarked, “You lost the privilege to pretend this family was normal after time number one.”

“I apologized!”

“It’s still attempted murder and I could probably sue you!” The two of them started bickering over the legal technicalities of Jason being sued since he was, legally and emotionally speaking, dead, while Damian turned to Dick.

“Grayson, take me to school now. I cannot stand any more of this idiocy.”

“Alright,” Dick replied, only mildly concerned about abandoning his younger brothers to their own (possibly fratricidal) devices. 

* * *

Damian was, as per usual, silent in the car ride.

“So,” Dick asked, watching Damian carefully in his rear-view mirror, “You invited Tim in on a case and to spend the night in the Manor. What’re you planning?”

“I am amending a situation before it goes too far.”

“What situation?”

“Tt. If you haven’t figured it out already, then you are clearly an idiot and it is not worth my time to inform you.”

“Oh, c’mon Damian,” Dick whined, “At least tell me you’re not going to kill him.”

“I have dismissed murdering Drake as a possibility due to Grandfather’s…interest in him.” The two of them shuddered.

“I just have to say one thing, Damian,” Dick’s tone was strangely serious, “If this is just some long, drawn-out plan to hurt Tim, stop it immediately. I know that the two of you aren’t on the best of terms, but he’s as much of a member of this family as you are, and he deserves your respect.”

“Tt. I am not planning anything of the sort, Grayson. And if I was, _you_ certainly could not pick up on it,” Damian responded, staring out the window. _Grayson at least clearly still cares for Drake. This will be incredibly useful later._ He thought to himself as they pulled up to his school.

* * *

Tim and Jason continued their bickering for about five minutes after the others left before giving in.

“Truce?” Jason asked, handing Tim a muffin.

“Truce.” Tim accepted the muffin, mostly because it was delicious and extremely minorly because he actually cared about making peace with the other boy.

“So, what’s with the young demon lad? Why’s he playing nice with you?”

“Okay, first of all, ‘young demon lad?’ What the fuck? And second of all, I have no clue. He seemed weirdly concerned with making sure I work on this case and stay at the manor.”

“Oh, he’s definitely going to murder you. Don’t worry, though, I’ll make sure he gives us your body back so you get a decent funeral and, hell, I’ll even throw in one of the fun old-timey grave bell things and an air tube so you don’t have to dig your way out of your own grave if you pull a Jesus too.”

“Thank you, Jason. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, this is only because, unlike myself, you are too weak and small to dig your way out.”

“Okay, you know what? Fuck you.”

“No, thank you. I may be an unrepentant killer, but I do have some standards, thank you very much.” And with that, Jason got up and began walking to the garages with the tray of muffins in his hand.

“At least leave the baked goods, you sick son of a bitch!” Tim yelled after him. It was too late. Jason was already driving away in Bruce’s car.

* * *

Tim went to work exhausted that day.      

Phrasing it like that makes it sound like an exception. Like Tim went to work most mornings well rested, well fed, and awake. On the contrary, he usually staggered into work about a minute and a half before he officially started work, having scarfed down a slice of toast and chinned a cup of coffee (or three), and proceeded to his assistant’s desk.

His assistant was, simply put, almost completely incompetent, and that was why he loved her. Cerys was a student at Gotham U studying history and frequently did her homework at her desk. She was never dressed professionally, showing up to work in flannels, band shirts, jeans, and combat boots. Her hair was periwinkle, a color that horrified most of the investors that had to walk past her desk. The sheer disgust on their faces as they walked by her always brought Tim inexplicable joy.

“Good morning, Cerys,” he said, approaching her desk.

“Wassup, bitch?” She replied, not looking away from her phone.

“You’re my assistant, you tell me.”

“Well, ya got some meetings with some boring investor dudes, some paperwork, ya gotta tour R n’ D- that should be fun, they’ve got this brills gun they won’t let me near that apparently shoots lightning- and ya got lunch with yer brother.”

“I’ve got which with my what now?”

“Lunch with yer brother.”     

“Which brother?” _Please don’t be Damian, please don’t be Damian, please don’t be Damian…_

“Which one did I have to threaten to taze again?”

“That would be all of them, but you’ve only actually tazed Dick,” he informed her, internally cringing as he remembered each of those incidents. Jason had been threatened when he suddenly broke in one of the windows, Damian had startled her, and Dick had hugged her.

“Huh. So, listen, I’m not sure which brother it is, because he came in here and tried to talk to me while I was stealing Jordan’s lunch from the break room, so I just wrote ‘murder bro’ down and I’m not sure which one it was.”

There was another thing about Cerys. She had found out about Red Robin. Or to be even more exact, she had figured it out by apparently noticing he had the same scar as the “funky little dude who kicked this mugger’s ass in front of me” because she “had a memory for this shit.” He had, of course, neglected to inform the rest of the family about this. Seeing as Cerys cared about as much about his side job as she did about anything else, he had decided it was fine. It did have benefits, since he could ask Cerys to do extra work in order to cover for him (she was suspiciously good at forging signatures). Unfortunately, it meant that she was privy to his siblings’ more…homicidal tendencies. And that Bruce would probably be upset with him when he found out, but Tim figured he’d disappointed Bruce enough that this issue was comparatively minor.

“Well, it’s not Dick, then. Was he short?”

“I didn’t look at him, Jordan’s lunch had pie.”

“Did he have a Gotham accent?”

“Bitch, ya think I notice accents?” Tim rubbed at his temples.

“You know what? Just pull up the security footage, Cerys, please.” She grumbled to herself in some language he didn’t understand and started typing away.

“Alright, here it is.”

“Oh, _shit_.” It was Damian. 

* * *

“Tam, he’s going to murder me,” Tim whined as he threw himself dramatically into his chair.

“That’s too bad. Now I wish we’d gotten married so I could inherit your considerable fortune,” she mocked him.

“I’ll leave it to you anyways. And I’ll throw in the company, just to really stick it to the little bastard. And of course you can have Cerys.”

“I don’t want Cerys; the last time you sent her over to ‘assist’ me she shattered my windows, broke my desk chair, and _set herself on fire_.” Tim winced. He’d forgotten about that.

“Also, what makes you so sure that Damian’s out to get you?”

“He invited me to work on a case with him and then insisted I spend the night at the manor.”

“So?”

“Tam, he is clearly trying to lead me into a trap and brutally murder me! Even Jason agrees, and Jason’s currently one of the experts in the field of trying to murder me!” Tam sighed, exasperated at Tim’s dramatics.

“Alright, listen up, you depressed idiot,” she said, ignoring Tim’s “Hey!” and Cerys’ snickers, “Let me introduce you to an alternate theory. Damian’s trying to bond with you and doesn’t know how so this is what he’s doing since he’s an emotional moron like the entirety of your family.”

“Tam, I love you, but this is a very fake theory. Damian hates me and would rather kill himself than bond with me.”     

“Which of us is the high school dropout and which of us is the smart one?”

“I hate you,” Tim grumbled.

“Love you too, Tim,” she responded before getting up to leave.

“If this is the last time I see you just know that our wedding would have been lovely. I had already picked out my dress,” he called after her. 

“What a waste, I’ll pass it on to our love children that I’ve been keeping from you.” And with that, she closed the door and looked at Cerys, who wasn’t even trying to pretend that she hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“Men are idiots,” she told Cerys.

“Not arguing, but Tim does have a point about his brothers trying to kill him.”

“I know this, and I’m ignoring it to keep my sanity semi-intact.”

“Fair enough. Should I let you know if he makes it back alive?”

“Don’t bother. I’m sure I’ll get a melodramatic phone call about it later. Also, please stop eating Jordan’s lunches. He’s getting very upset about it and he’s probably going to complain to HR soon. And you know how much you and Tim both hate dealing with HR.”

“But he always has pie,” Cerys huffed.

“You have access to Tim’s company card, right? Buy your own pie and charge it to that.” Cerys grinned.

“This is why we lowlings call you the smart one. We call Tim the dumb one, because you’re both pretty so neither of you can be the pretty one. And I’m overexplaining this. Please excuse me for a minute while I die of humiliation.” Tam laughed as she stepped into the elevator and the doors slid smoothly shut.

* * *

Damian was waiting for Tim in the lobby. He was sitting on a small couch, reading a book with his brow furrowed.

“Interesting read?” Tim asked, stopping at the arm of the couch.

“Tt. I do not understand this protagonist. Despite numerous warning signs, he appears to have joined a cult unknowingly,” Damian replied, closing the book and standing up. They began walking to the parking garage.

“Some people are just idiots.”

“But to join a cult-”

“Is a bit extreme, yes, but still. Never underestimate the power of someone offering you everything you’ve ever wanted. It’ll make you overlook any problems with the scenario.” Damian paused as they walked to look at his brother.

“Do you speak from experience, Drake?”

“Where are we going for lunch?” Tim just kept walking. His eyes were cold and his mouth was tight.

_This conversation may be over for now, Drake, but we will revisit it._

“I had hoped that we could visit a favorite restaurant of mine.”

“Alright, program the address into the GPS.” Tim unlocked his car and got in the driver’s side seat, throwing his messenger bag in the back seat. Damian went to get in the passenger side.

“Backseat, short stack,” Tim ordered, “Front seat is twelve and over.”

“Tt. The other exception to the rule is to be taller than four feet four inches, and I am four feet _six_ inches, so there,” Damian responded, smugly sitting in the front.

“If we get pulled over I’m blaming it on you.”

“Right, because that’s believable.”

“Shut up and program the GPS, Damian.” Damian huffed but did so.

Once he was done, Tim pulled the car out of the garage before reaching over and turning on the radio. A song Damian only recognized as Lady Gaga through over-exposure to Dick’s taste in music started playing. Tim was humming along, tapping his thumb gently to the beat. Damian took the opportunity to observe Tim in civilian mode.

He was moderately more relaxed, but only to the point where he was not recognizable on edge to someone who wasn’t looking for it. The use of concealer had disguised the bags under his eyes and the bruises on his face. It was obvious he was wearing other cosmetics, but Damian could only identify one product.

“You are wearing makeup.”

“Yes.” Tim sounded amused.

“Why?”

“Why not?

“Tt. Psychology would suggest-”

“I just wear it to hide the effects of the nightlife, Damian, it’s not that deep. Do I wear more than Bruce or Dick? Maybe, but unlike the two of them, I’m the face of this company. There’s a higher standard. I think I look fine without the makeup, but unfortunately people start to ask questions if you have eye bags, bruises, and a scar on your throat. The makeup makes me look more alive and more… _conventionally_ attractive.” Damian noticed Tim’s knuckles were white as he clutched the steering wheel violently.

“Perhaps Todd should wear more of it, then.”

Tim snorted, his mood lightening a bit.

“He dyes his hair and eyebrows, so I’m sure he’s not opposed to a bit of cosmetic enhancement. We’ll have to suggest it to him.”

“Todd dyes his hair?” Tim grinned.

“Yep, the son of a bitch is a natural redhead. Bruce had him dye his hair when he first adopted Jason so they could pretend he was Dick. I can’t believe they actually thought that would fool anyone, though. I guess Jason just does it for the aesthetic now.”

“I shall have to mock him for this in the future.”

“Call him carrot top, he’ll hate it.”

“I think I will.” The rest of the ride passed with only the noise of the radio and the navigator’s occasional directions. Tim pulled into a parking spot in front of the restaurant.

“Arabian food, huh?” He asked curiously.

“I have found it beneficial to connect with the culture of my mother’s family.”

“Fair enough. I know Dick and Jason do the same.”

“You do not celebrate your family’s culture?” Damian asked. Tim had one of his poker faces on.

“I might if my parents had ever bothered to give me any information about it,” Tim muttered before clearing his throat, “Let’s just go in, okay?” He got out of the car, but Damian was a pace behind.

_Drake’s parents never taught him about their culture? That can’t be. Grayson’s parents died when he was younger than Drake and he is quite connected to his. I must ask Grayson about this._

Tim knocked on the window.

“Damian, are you coming?” He asked.

“Yes.” He got out of the car and Tim locked it before they went in. Damian sat down at one of the window booths. Tim sat across from him and began examining the menu.

The family who ran the shop was familiar with Damian, and the waitress came up to him with a warm smile.

“مَرْحَباً, Damian. Shall I get your usual?”

“مَرْحَباً, Naziha. That would be excellent.” She nodded and turned to Tim.

“And you, sir?”

“I’ll have what he’s having.” Naziha nodded again before walking back to the kitchen.

“This really is one of your favorite restaurants if you come here often enough that the waitress knows your name.”

“Tt. It is an excellent restaurant.”

“I wasn’t saying it wasn’t. It’s certainly more upscale than my favorite.” There was a nostalgic and sorrowful look on Tim’s face.

“Which is?”

“The In-N-Out in San Francisco. Kon and I had our first date there. It was about midnight- we’d just gotten back from a mission- and it was just the two of us and the employees. He flew us out to Angel Island to stargaze after we ate. It was an incredible night.” Tim had a faint smile on his face. It was the first time in years Damian had seen one of his smiles spread through his entire face.

“So it sounds,” he replied, “Why are you not still together with him then?”

Tim let out a sigh.

“Dying changes things, Damian. I don’t think I can put myself through that kind of loss again. It’s better to avoid the dating scene for a while; other than my ‘engagement’ to Tam, that is.”

“Tt. I, personally, do not see any value to such ties at all. They can only end in disaster,” Damian declared in response to this. 

“Right,” Tim drawled, “So Jon Kent and Colin Wilkes mean nothing to you and you definitely wouldn’t murder the entire planet if anything happened to them. Got it.”

“I did _not_ say that! Do not put words in my mouth, Drake!”

“Alright, chill, you love your boyfriends, I get it.”

“ _I am not dating either of them_ ,” Damian hissed. Tim cracked up.

“Keep living in denial, mini Wayne. It totally won’t bite you in the ass at all. But who knows, maybe you inherited Bruce’s emotionless robot mode and it really will work out for you, just like it’s _definitely_ worked out for him.”

“Tt. You are insufferable, Drake.”

“Aww, thanks, baby bat. Love you, too.”

* * *

After they ate, Tim dropped Damian off at school. Damian turned to him when they pulled up to the office and Tim began to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“I will be apprehending the criminals from the case tonight. As you have assisted me, it is only polite that I invite you along.”

Tim looked confused.

“Damian, it’s your case and I’m sure you can handle them by yourself.”

“Humour me so that I do not have to deal with Grayson forcing his way in on my case,” Damian ground out.

“Alright, I’ll help you take them down. Now c’mon, we have to get you to class before you’re late and your teacher kills me and then Dick chucks me in a Lazarus pit and kills me again.”

* * *

The second Tim got back in the car after dropping the kid off, he called Dick.

“Hey, Timmy, what’s up?”

“Damian is going to murder me tonight.” There was a slight pause before Dick sighed.

“What did he do now?”

“He invited me out to lunch at his ‘favourite restaurant’ and then asked me to help take down the robbers from his case with him! What the fuck is he doing?”

“To be completely honest, Timmy, I have no idea. On the bright side, I don’t think he’s trying to kill you! I talked to him about it this morning and he didn’t seem to have any interest in fratricide.”

“It’s Damian! He’s _always_ interested in fratricide. For fuck’s sake, why is Jason of all people the only one agreeing with me on this?” Tim slammed his palm against the steering wheel.

“…Tim, I wouldn’t consider Jason a reliable source of information.”

“He is on the matter of my attempted murder! In case you’ve forgotten, he tried to kill me on _several_ different occasions and very nearly succeeded.”

“Oh, believe me,” Dick’s voice was tight, “I haven’t forgotten that.”

“Oy vey, Dick, shut the fuck up. Stop being goddamn angry about that. Jason had died, been dipped in one of those _fucking_ pits, and then was subjected to years of Damian’s family. No wonder the poor son of a bitch was crazy. I forgave him years ago and if anyone has any right to be upset about my almost death it’s me.”

“Oh, really? What about me? I almost lost another brother. What about Bruce? He almost lost another son. What about Alfred? What about your friends? You can’t just invalidate everyone else’s pain because you feel like it! Face it, Tim, you aren’t the only person impacted when you get injured!”

“That’s not the point, Dick! The point is you blaming Jason for something outside of his control. He was really fucked over by the pit and he’s apologized for it already. I can’t imagine what he was going through and I appreciate that he actually bothered to apologize for his shit behavior!

“Besides, it is very fucking hypocritical of you to go after Jason for attacking me when Damian has literally done the exact same thing and you don’t seem to hold that against him! And you know what, Dick? I forgave him, too, because he’s a fucking traumatized child!”

“That’s a fair point, Tim, but that doesn’t mean you can invalidate the pain of others! Why is it so hard for you to accept that I care about you enough that it hurt me to almost lose another brother?”

“I’m done with this conversation,” Tim snapped.

“Tim, wait-”

Tim hung up the phone.  

“Well that was dramatic,” Jason said from the backseat of the car. Tim screamed, barely managing to keep himself from swerving.

“Jason, what the fuck!” Jason clambered out of the backseat and into the passenger side.

“No big, I was just spying on you and the devil spawn, Timmy. I was so flattered to hear your impassioned defense of me to the Dickster. I’m so grateful to have such a sweet little brother to defend my good name.”

“Why were you spying on Damian and I?” Tim decided to ignore the comments about Jason’s honor.

“To make sure he didn’t kill you. You’re the only bat I can stand except the purple one, so I would be very upset if you died.”

“The purple one is Steph, Jason. She goes by Spoiler. And I’m touched that you apparently care about my life now.” Jason shrugged.

“Least I can do after attempting to brutally murder you. By the by, I need you to drop me at the old airfield, and if you don’t I’ll make you talk about your feelings and then tell the Teen Dumbasses and brother dearest that you’re depressed and then they’ll come here and mother you to death. And then Ra’s al-Asshole will throw you in a Lazarus Pit and have creepy zombie sex with you. So really, you should take me to the old airfield.”

“I’m not a fucking cabbie, despite what you and Damian apparently think. I’m going to guess nabbing a ride was the real reason you hopped in my car,” Tim grumbled as he made a turn in the direction of the old airfield, “And why do you need to go to the airport, exactly?”

“Outlaws going to Monaco, baby,” Jason replied in the tone of an asshole frat guy, “Got a big case and one of Brucie’s credit cards.”

“Do me a favor and stumble onto the Formula One track during a race.”

“Bite me, tiny Tim.”

“No thanks, I have taste.” After a beat, Tim’s straight face cracked and he laughed at his own joke. Jason looked affronted.

“Did you get dipped in the Lazarus pit of bitchiness while you were out of Gotham or what?”

“Why are you fighting with Dick? Because it’s not about Damian and I.”

“I really don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Aww, c’mon Timmers. Spill the tea.”

“No, I- Did you just say spill the tea?”

“Shut up and let me enjoy slang, Tim. And don’t try to distract from your fight with Boy Wonder 1.0.”

“It’s not that important, Jason.”

“Not that important? Tim-Tams, you were screeching at him in defense of myself and Damian. That seems important.”

“Okay, first of all, stop giving me ridiculous nicknames. Second of all, why are we having a heart to heart?”

“I will never stop giving you ridiculous nicknames, it’s my duty as your brother and the family asshole- well, one of the family assholes. Everyone but Cass and Alfred splits that title. And you and I should have this heart to heart because we’re the Reds! The middle children! Allies against the Circus Boy/Demon Boy Wonder combo! And we both know that dear old Daddy-Bats isn’t going to talk to his sons about feelings-” Jason paused at the confused look on Tim’s face- “Why are you making that face?”

“Uh, not _totally_ sure you got the memo, but I’m not Bruce’s son.”

Jason stared at him and Tim began fidgeting in his seat.

“What the fuck are you on?”

“He never adopted me, Jason,” Tim replied in a very matter of fact tone, “And I only moved into the manor because it was more practical for bat purposes.”

“He gave you his fucking company!”

“Well, that was also practical-”

“Jesús Cristo! He’s called you his son in front of the fucking Justice League, Timothy. That means he’s your fucking dad.”

“Not necessarily. It was…beneficial to keep up the continued story that the Robins are Batman’s sons rather than to explain my family’s complicated politics. Okay, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Do I look incredulous? Because I’m incredulous. How can you be some kind of fucking super genius and still be this stupid? Dios, you need a therapist. I need a therapist. Our entire family needs a therapist.”

“I’m not talking to Black Canary about my problems and good luck finding me a different therapist that’ll understand the cape and cowl shit. Also, get your shit together, we’re almost there.”

“Don’t you dare think we’re done with this conversation, you dumb twink,” Jason threatened as he grabbed an old Wonder Woman backpack from the backseat.

“You’re the dumb twink,” Tim grumbled as he parked the car.

“I am very clearly a twunk, idiota. Also, I have a gift to help you fend off the demon spawn.” Jason handed him something wrapped in a dirty rag before getting out of the car. Tim unwrapped it. It was a Hello Kitty taser gun. Tim rolled his window down.

“Fuck you, Jason!” He yelled. The only reply he got was a distant cackle as Jason boarded the private plane waiting for him on the tarmac.

* * *

When Tim returned to the office, Cerys had a pot of coffee waiting for him. It was, to be completely frank, the only actually work she had done in over a week.

“Thank you, Cerys. I need this,” He said, taking the entire pot.

“No problemo, gay lord,” she replied as she took another bite of pie.         

“Are you eating an entire pie?”

“What’s it to ya?” She replied with her mouth full. He winced as he imagined his mother or Alfred’s reactions to her shitty manners.

“Did you at least buy me a pie?”

“Yep, on yer desk. And I wrote it off as an ‘entertainment expense’ so we save money on it.” Tim facepalmed.

“Cerys, I’m a billionaire. I can afford a couple of pies.”

“Yeah, but I bought pies for the whole company.”

“Oh, alright- wait, I’m sorry, you bought pies for the _what_?”

“The whole company,” She drew her words out, looking at him like he was an idiot.

“Oy gevalt-” He threw his hands up in the air- “What possessed you to do that?”

“It was the Christmas spirit,” Cerys deadpanned.

“Okay, first off, you're pagan and we both know this, and second off, it’s _May_.”

“And some theologists have theorized that Jesus was actually born in the spring. So thus, Christmas spirit.”

“I don’t have time for your tax evasion bullshit today, Cerys, I have to figure out how to escape my brother’s attempt on my life tonight,” he declared as he stalked towards his door with the coffee pot in hand.

“Oh, yeah, about your bros. Whatshisface- the one I tasered- called and asked for you to please call him back. I told him you were dead and for some reason he started crying so you might want to fix that situation. Because crying people are not something I am paid enough to deal with.”

“God, I wish my crippling fear of disappointing people would shut up and let me fire you,” he told her.

“Oh, go eat a bag of glass dildos,” she said with affection.

* * *

Tim was steadfastly ignoring his phone as it buzzed with concerned messages from Dick.            

 **Marcia:** Tim please answer me I need to know if you’re alive

 **Marcia:** I can see that you’re reading these would you please just respond

**Three missed calls from: Marcia.**

**Marcia:** Tim, please. I really want to talk to you about this

 **Marcia:** In person I am not having this talk over the phone.

Cerys’ phone rang. She had a short conversation with the person on the line before hanging up. She got up and entered his office.

“Tazed brother- I think his name might be some variant on penis- called again and I’m pretty sure he’s hysterical at this point so I assured him yah yer usual bitchy self. Mostly to get him to hang up because I hate dealing with crying people. Also, I promised proof of life so _cheese_.” Before he could respond, she had already whipped out her phone and snapped a picture of him.

“Please don’t send that to Dick,” He groaned.

“Too late. Also, please respond to him. I hate acting as a go-between almost as much as I hate having actual emotions,” She left again.

“I’m seriously going to fire you!” Tim yelled back at her.

“I’m like black mold, bitch, yell never be rid of me!” Tim sighed and went back to paperwork. He had a lot to get done to prepare the company for Tam to take over when he was dead.

* * *

When Dick picked Damian up, the older boy looked like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

“What has happened, Grayson?” _Who do I need to murder?_

“Tim won’t respond to me and his assistant told me he was dead but apparently he isn’t actually dead, and he actually fought with me.”

“Tt. His assistant is…curious. It is a miracle that Drake has not fired her and a clear sign of his incompetence.”

“Damian, can you tone the Tim hate down today? Please? I don’t need you two to start fighting again. Also, he’s completely convinced you’re going to murder him tonight, so it would great if you could not do that.”

“Tt. As if I would be so careless as to alert Drake that his demise was imminent,” Damian scoffed. Dick let out a frustrated noise.

“I do not need this,” He said to himself.

“I will not be patrolling with you tonight, Grayson. Drake and I will be apprehending the criminals from the case Father assigned me.” Dick frowned.

“Tim invited himself along?”

“I requested his presence as a matter of courtesy.”

“ _You_ invited _him_?” 

“Do not act so surprised, Grayson. I am perfectly capable of being welcoming when I see fit.”

“But you inviting Tim? Tim of all people? Did you get possessed? I’m calling Zatanna.” Sadly enough, Dick wasn’t joking.

“That will not be necessary. I am perfectly fine, Grayson, I have just realized that Drake has his uses regardless of his many shortcomings.”

“You can just say you like him, Dami, it’s fine.”

“Tt. I do not.” Dick sighed.

“Well, at least there’s some progress.”

* * *

Tim got off work and made his way straight home. His apartment was a mess and he nearly tripped three times as he navigated the piles of stuff on his floor on his way to the secret entrance to his lair. _I’ll clean that up this weekend,_ he promised himself, knowing full well that he wouldn’t.

He changed quickly into his costume, hissing as he tightened his utility belt over some bruised ribs from six on one fight a couple nights before. He hadn’t had time to drop by Leslie’s and get them checked, but he knew the difference between bruised and broken ribs. Shiva had taught him how in Paris.

 _"This is important knowledge,”_ she had told him as she helped treat his wounds after a fight with the Ghost Dragons, _“and could mean the difference between life and death. It would do you well to learn it, for both your allies and you.”_ He hadn’t even needed to respond. He missed that about his time with Shiva; she’d been able to read him in a way that Bruce never could.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and back to the mission. Damian had texted him the coordinates to meet at, so he hopped on his motorcycle and took off. He arrived just ten minutes later. Damian was already waiting for him, sulking half-hidden in the shadows.

“The targets will be here in approximately twenty minutes,” the boy said, “We should observe them from the roof. When they enter the jewelry store we will rappel in and capture them.”

“Sounds good,” Tim replied before firing his grappling gun. He rapidly made his way onto the roof of the building with Damian close on his heels.

They waited in silence, watching the storefront with great focus. It was Damian who finally broke the silence.

“You upset Bat-Nightwing.”

“I know I did,” Tim replied, “I didn’t mean to, honest, but I’ve been stressed lately, and he made a comment that pissed me off, so I took the opportunity to let loose on him. I feel bad now and I’ll talk to him about it tomorrow.”

“What did he say?”

“Huh?”

“Nightwing is very rarely intentionally offensive. I would like to know what he said so that I have a better understanding of the situation and can offer my own opinions.”

“Can’t fault that logic. We were talking, and I brought up the fact that Hood’s tried to kill me a few times and Nightwing…hasn’t quite forgiven him. So, I started yelling at him for being a hypocrite because he’ll hold Hood accountable for things he won’t hold you accountable for. Not that I’m mad at you for trying to, uh, murder me. I’ve forgiven both of you. Both of you had been through shit that influenced your actions in ways I can’t understand, and I was kinda the obvious target.”

The look on Damian’s face was indecipherable, but his body was tense.

“Robbers,” he replied, and in an instant Tim was on his feet and they were both sailing across a grappling line to the jewelry store below.

Damian threw himself at the first robber in sight. Tim was a few beats behind him, but before he touched down something caught his eye.

The robbers were wearing gas masks. Which they hadn’t worn during any of the other robberies.

“Damian, gas masks! It’s a trap!” He shouted, trying to grab his from his utility belt. There was a hard blow to the side of his head and the world spun before greying out.

* * *

Tim awoke with a groan. His head throbbed, and the world was still spinning.

“-Robin? Red Robin, wake up,” A voice hissed from beside him. He tried to focus on it and eventually the world settled again, and he could see Damian crouched beside him.

“What happened?” He mumbled.

“We have been captured by the Joker. I heard him speaking to some guards earlier, but he hasn’t appeared yet. Fortunately, I was due to check in with Ba-Nightwing shortly after we apprehended the criminals, so the alarm should be raised fairly quickly.”

“Yeah, but it’s Joker. He’ll have a bitch of a time tracking us down, especially with Oracle and Batman both out of town.”

“Oracle is out of town?” Damian sounded worried.

“Yep, the Birds of Prey have a mission and she’s off with them. With Spoiler in Hong Kong that puts Gotham on a skeleton crew. Nightwing will call in reinforcements but, well…they’ve been late to save a Robin from Joker before. So, in conclusion: outlook not so good.”

“Can you not call your Superboy?”

“Conner won’t be listening for me, and he’s out of town regardless. Why don’t you call yours?”

“He has yet to develop his ability to discern voices and heartbeats from the crowd.” They sat in silence for a moment, fear coursing through their veins and paralyzing their voices.

“So, this is a real mother fuck of a situation, huh?” Tim said in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood.

“I concur,” Damian replied in a small voice. Tim looked over at him. The boy was shaking.

“Hey, it’ll be alright. Nightwing will raise the alarm for you loud enough the JL will hear it out in space,” He said, placing a comforting hand on Damian’s shoulder. Damian leaned into the touch, probably unconsciously.

“You do not think he will be raising an alarm for you as well?”

Tim shrugged. “I mean, yeah, since I disappeared with you. But I’ve gone missing before and he never noticed.”

“That cannot be right. He notices everything about my whereabouts.”

“Yeah, but that’s _you_. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re kind of his favorite.”

“That does not mean he does not care about you. He has threatened me against killing you on several occasions.”

“That doesn’t mean he likes me. That just means he doesn’t want you committing homicide. Which is against the family rules.”

“You are the stupidest person I have ever had the misfortune of meeting,” Damian declared. The sound of footsteps echoing down the hall stopped their banter dead in its tracks.

The Joker appeared in front of the bars.

“So I have not one, but two little birdies! A two-for-one special! Whatever will Batsy do? Will two broken birds make a big bat snap? Two birds, one bat! How exquisite is _that_?” Neither of them replied.

“Aww, do the birdies not chirp? What’s the matter, cat got your tongue? Oh well, I don’t really care after all. Hmm, what to do? Oh, I know! I’ll break the smaller birdy first.” Damian jerked at that.

Tim started laughing. It was not a pleasant sound.

“What’s that, red birdy?” The Joker was genuinely curious.

“You really think hurting him will break Batman? Newsflash, he’s the new bird in the nest. Bats doesn’t even know him yet. No, if you really want to break Batman, you’ll break me first. He’s known me longer and we’re closer. Then you dump my body somewhere, make him think he still has time to save the other bird and kill Robin in front of his very eyes,” Tim answered. Damian was looking at him, sheer horror throwing his features into stark relief. The Joker seemed even more pleased.

“Finally, a little bird that makes _sense_! And of course it’s the birdy I’ve broken before. But if you’re thinking that means I’ll let you off easy, birdy, you’re dead wrong. I’m still going to make this _very_ slow and _very_ painful. All the better to bring back the good memories,” he sang, unlocking their cage. Two goons stepped out of the shadows and entered. One grabbed each of Tim’s arms and hauled him to his feet, dragging him along behind the Joker as the mad man danced down the hallway. Damian watched as they went, a terrified expression on his face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” Tim mouthed at him, but that only seemed to make Damian’s fear worse.

* * *

Jason’s phone buzzed, and he slipped away from the casino’s bar and onto a balcony.

“What do you want, Dickhead?” He answered.

“Tim and Damian were kidnapped by the Joker. I can’t find any trace of them anywhere, but Joker sent Bruce a note. There were two vials of blood attached to it- I’m running DNA now but I’m positive it’s theirs. I need you home, now,” Dick was barely masking the sheer panic in his voice.

“¡Mierda! I’ll get the others and we’ll be there as soon as possible. Any idea what time they were taken?”

“Between 7:00-7:40ish. I’m trying to find more accurate information on how he snatched them but it’s hard since I can’t get a hold of Babs.”

“Fuck. I’ll try to get a hold of her too. Call me with any updates.”

“I will.” Dick hung up and Jason ran inside. He spotted Artemis immediately and hurried over to her.

“Grab Biz and meet me at the plane. Tim and Damian have been taken by the Joker,” he ordered. Artemis nodded and took off for their hotel room. Jason took off again, jumping in a Taxi.

“Airport, please. And floor it!” He yelled in French. The driver nodded and took off.

* * *

Tim was strapped down to a hard metal surgery table and his suit was cut off of him, but not before the Joker lost six goons to traps he’d programmed into it.

“Clever little birdy, playing tricksies,” the madman hissed, “Batsy will be so proud when I tell him.”

 _Jokes on you, asshole. Bruce hasn’t been proud of me for years,_ Tim thought bitterly.

There was the sharp noise of a knife being sharpened from somewhere to his right. The noise sent electricity crackling along Tim’s nerves. And then the Joker began to sing.

“Who killed Cock Robin? I, said the Sparrow, with my bow and arrow, I killed Cock Robin.

“Who saw him die? I, said the Fly, with my little eye, I saw him die.”

Without warning, he lashed out and cut a shallow slit across Tim’s abdomen.

“Who caught his blood? I, said the Fish, with my little dish, I caught his blood.”

Another cut, this time to his leg. Tim allowed himself a short hiss of pain.

“Who'll make the shroud? I, said the Beetle, with my thread and needle, I'll make the shroud.”

One across his arm.

“Who'll dig his grave? I, said the Owl, with my little trowel, I'll dig his grave.”

One across the skin of his foot.

“Who'll be the parson? I, said the Rook, with my little book, I'll be the parson.”

A particularly painful one to his upper thigh. Tim barely held back a scream.

“Who'll be the clerk? I, said the Lark, if it's not in the dark, I'll be the clerk.”

Another cut to the thigh, on the other side this time. Tim’s control was starting to slip.

“Who'll carry the link? I, said the Linnet, I'll fetch it in a minute, I'll carry the link.”

Another cut to his abdomen pushed him over the brink and Tim let out a scream.

“Who'll be chief mourner? I, said the Dove, I mourn for my love, I'll be chief mourner.”

Two cuts to his shin made Tim scream again, louder this time.

_Get it together, Tim, you don’t want to freak Damian out any more than he already is._

“Who'll carry the coffin? I, said the Kite, if it's not through the night, I'll carry the coffin.”  

A cut to his chest ripped another scream from his throat.

“Who'll bear the pall? We, said the Wren, both the cock and the hen, we’ll bear the pall.”

A slow, dragging cut along his cheek drew out a sob.

_Well, better sobs than screams, harder for him to hear._

“Who'll sing a psalm? I, said the Thrush, as she sat on a bush, I'll sing a psalm.”

A cut along his collar bone, dangerously close to his collar bone drew another sob.

“Who'll toll the bell? I, said the Bull, because I can pull, I'll toll the bell.”

Tim’s head and body were throbbing, his heartbeat pulsing through him so strongly it felt like even someone without super-hearing would be able to hear it from halfway across the world. His vision was full of blackspots and there was a disjointed screaming tearing its way out of his throat.

“All the birds of the air fell a-sighing and a-sobbing, when they heard the bell toll for poor Cock Robin.”

The pain overwhelmed him and once more he blacked out.

* * *

Damian could hear the screams and the sobs and the godawful singing.

Tim was clearly trying to hold them in, but as the time wore on his tolerance had caved. The noises echoed off the walls of the building, bouncing around the cell and send chills up Damian’s nerves.

He curled up into a ball, closing his eyes shut and jamming his fingers in his ears. His breath was coming too quickly and yet not at all and he couldn’t- he couldn’t-

The screams stopped.

The singing quit.

And then the Joker’s terrible laugh rose up like a storm wave.

* * *

Tim and Damian had been missing for eight hours by the time Dick got a hold of Barbara.

“What, Dick?”

“Tim. Damian. Kidnapped. Joker,” he gasped out, completely in the throes of a panic attack.

“Shit. Dick, I need you to stay on the line and try to breathe-” he could hear her fingers flying over the keyboard- “Where and when did it happen?”

“7thand Market. 7:00-7:40.”

“I’m on it. Do you have someone there who can take care of you?”

“Jason’s on the way.”

“Yeah, from Monaco. He’s still got a couple hours. I’m calling Wally.”

“No,” Dick gasped, “He’s a civilian.”

“Fuck that, Dick, he’s your best friend-” The line went silent again- “He’ll be there in five. Stay on the line with me?”

“’Kay. Love you, Babs.”

“I love you, too, Dickhead.”

“Babs?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t lose another brother. I can’t, Babs. I can’t lose either of them again. I know Tim’s never died but still…I lost him after Bruce died, Babs, and he never fully came back. I don’t know how to fix it because he won’t _talk_ to me and every time I try to talk I just make everything worse! And now the Joker’s going to kill him and I’ll never get to make things right. I’ll never be able to get Dami to admit that he cares and I’ll never be able to help him stop feeling like he has to earn affection. I’ve already burned my goddamn bridges with Jason and I just…I can’t do this, Babs, I can’t keep losing people,” he was crying now, curled up against the wall as he was crushed by the emotions he’d been holding back for months.

“Dick…” She replied softly before a loud crash rang through the Cave.

Wally was standing over him, breathing slightly labored. He reached down, carefully picking Dick up off the floor.

“C’mon, Dick,” he said, carrying him up the stairs, “You’re no use to them dead on your feet. Let’s get you to bed. Oracle and I will take care of things while you sleep.”

“’M fine.”

“Sure you are, Dick,” Wally soothed, guiding him into his bedroom, “Sure you are.” He set Dick down on his bed and helped him take off the Nightwing costume before tucking him under the covers. Wally stood up to leave when Dick grabbed his arm.

“Stay for a little bit, Wally, please.”

“Of course.” Wally slipped off his own suit before joining Dick in the bed. Dick wrapped himself around the speedster, who hugged him back.

“It’s going to be fine, Dick, they’re both smart and they’ll make it through this. We’ll get to them in time. I promise. Babs is on the case. I’m on the case. I’ll keep making calls to other heroes. You’re not alone, Dick. We’ve got your back.”

“Thanks, Wally. Love you,” Dick muttered into the crook of Wally’s neck. There was a gentle kiss pressed to the top of his head.

“Love you too, Dick.”

* * *

Footsteps echoed down the hallway, but Damian didn’t raise his head. The door to the cell opened and there was a loud thump as something was thrown in. Damian lifted his head a bit and cracked open one of his eyes. It was Tim. Damian’s head shot up.

He was covered in bleeding cuts and his breathing was shallow. His costume was gone, leaving him in only his underwear. Damian looked over at the Joker, who was grinning down at him.

“Since the big birdy’s still breathing you’re safe. After all, it’s no fun playing games with sleeping beauties.” Joker disappeared with a cackle. As soon as he was out of sight, Damian rushed over to Tim.

He pulled out the small first aid kit hidden in his clothes. Any fixes he could do to the cuts would be temporary, but it would have to do. After all, the Joker would be coming back for Tim again sometime soon.

He cleaned each wound out with an antibacterial wipe before carefully stitching them shut and bandaging each one. Tim stirred a few times but didn’t wake.

A goon came shortly after he was done treating all of Tim’s wounds with some food for them. It was just a sandwich each and some carrots, but it was enough. There was also a small bottle of water passed through to him.

“Red Robin,” He murmured after the guard left, “You need to wake up.”

Tim stirred again, but this time Damian managed to jostle him awake.

“Wha’?” He asked, staring woozily into the middle distance.

“You need to eat something. Here, sit up.” He helped Tim to lean against the cell wall.

“’m not dead?” Tim said between bites.

“No, but the Joker said he would be returning soon. I patched you up as best I could but…” He trailed off as he noticed Tim smiling at him.

“Thanks, Damian. You’re probably the only thing standing between me and bleeding out.”

Damian ground his teeth together.

“A situation we would not be in if you had kept your mouth shut.”

Tim shrugged.

“Joker was most likely going to kill us both as fast as he can in order to hurt Bruce as quickly as possible. By directing his madness on to me I’ve at least ensured that you’ll get out of this okay.”

“How can you say that?” Damian hissed, “How can you possibly justify your suffering being worth my life? What reason do you have to save me?”

“I need a reason? You’re a child, Damian, and I’m not throwing a child to the Joker.”

“You are a child as well, Tim, and I do not think Father will appreciate this new attitude you have developed in regard to your own worth.”

Tim let out a humorless laugh.

“Bruce doesn’t care about my attitude outside of work, Damian, I’m not his son.”

“Not his-that is the most preposterous thing I have ever heard, and Grayson once told me he was a skilled chef. You are just as much Father’s son as I am, and I regret that it has taken me this long to notice it.”

“You don’t have to be nice to me in my final hours, Damian. You’ll just make me lose even more touch with reality and kill me from shock.”

“Tim, I was not being nice. I have a confession to make. I noticed that you were withdrawing from the-from _our_ family and I decided to bring you back into the fold myself. I felt like it was my fault. I’m sorry for trying to kill you and I’m sorry for treating you poorly and I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess with me when I was the only target,” Damian said as tears began burning their way down his face.

“Oy vey, Damian, come here.” Tim raised one of his arms with a wince and Damian crawled under it. He tucked himself up against his brother’s side and wrapped his arms gently around Tim’s waist.

“You don’t need to apologize to me, Damian. I forgave you years ago for the way you used to treat me and you can’t possibly be blamed for the Joker’s actions. Plus, I owe you an apology too. I didn’t treat you well when you first got here, and I’m sorry for that. I wasn’t being fair to you. And I appreciate you trying to bring me back into the fold. Thank you, Damian.” Tim kissed the top of Damian’s head.

“I don’t want you to die,” Damian whispered.

“I’ll try not to, and I’m not letting you die. I’ll keep you safe, Damian.”

“And I will keep you alive,” Damian promised. His voice was still shaky with emotion. Tim tightened his grip around Damian.

“They’re going to save us, Dami, I know they will.” His words were beginning to slur together.

 _I know they’re coming,_ Damian thought, _I’m just worried they won’t be fast enough to save you._

But he didn’t vocalize his thoughts, instead choosing to move his body carefully between his brother’s and the door. Tim didn’t seem to notice, to busy trying to doze off.

_Shit, he can’t fall asleep again. I have to keep him talking._

“Why do you fight with the bo staff? I do not believe anyone else in the family uses one.”

“Lady Shiva offered to train me. Least lethal weapon she knew,” Tim slurred. Damian jolted.

“You were trained by the Lady Shiva?”

“Yep, and I beat her,” Tim replied with a dopey grin, “I’m good.”

“You are full of surprises, Tim.”

“I’m a piñata!” Tim cried, now clearly delirious from blood loss. Despite himself, Damian felt his lips quirk into a smile.

“Indeed, Tim. What was training with Lady Shiva like?”

“Scary,” Tim slurred, “She’s like a mom. Like a real scary mom. A soccer mom. Wait, Dami!”

“Yes, Tim?”

“She _is_ a mom! She’s Cass’ mom!”

“So she is.”

“I’m a detective!”

“Yes, you are.”

“You,” Tim said, sticking his finger in Damian’s face, “Are not a detective. You are a small child. Infant. Where are your parents?”

“Father is in space and mother is…somewhere.”

“My parents are dead,” Tim said bluntly, “and I’m dead inside. Don’t be dead, Damian.”

“I’ve already tried it and I did not enjoy the experience.”

“That’s good. I’m really tired. I’m gonna go to bed.”

“You can’t,” Damian exclaimed in a panic, “You’re too hurt.”

“Rest is good for hurt.”

“But I want to hear about your training.”

“Right now?”

“Yes, now. I demand it.”

“’kay. So I started training with this guy…”

* * *

The second Jason’s plane jerked to a halt he was out the door and running in the direction of the manor. Bizarro flew low over his head, Artemis under one arm, and grabbed Jason.

“Red Him very stupid. Cannot run whole way,” the clone remarked.

“Thanks, Biz.”

They touched down a minute later, and Jason rushed into the house. He ran down the stairs of the hidden entrance to the cave and nearly slammed into Wally West.

“Where’s Dick?” Jason growled.

“Sleeping. He was dead on his feet- hadn’t taken a break in over 48 hours. Babs has been piecing together a trail for the Joker, but we still can’t find footage of them being taken. We do have a genetic match for the blood from both of them, so we know it’s actually them.”

“And what the hell are we doing about it? We should be out there searching, goddamn it! Tearing up the fucking town to find them!”

“As much as I would love to do that,” Dick said from the top of the staircase, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to go into this guns a-blazing. We need to figure out where Joker’s got them and what he’s planning before we go after him. It’s safer for everyone. But I will say this. If I beat the son of a bitch to death again, no one will be resuscitating him unless it’s to kill him more painfully that I did.” Dick’s eyes were steely, and his body was tense with rage. Jason grinned at him.

“Now you’re speaking’ my language, Dickie-bird.”

“Dick…” Wally said, concerned.

“The Joker went too far years ago, Wally. I killed him once for it and he got his second chance. I can understand the no-kill rule most of the time but taking Tim and Damian has pushed me past it. That rat bastard is not taking another brother from me. He’s not hurting anyone ever again after this. This is the mission that wipes the Joker off the map. _Permanently_.”

“And what will Batman have to say about this?” Jason asked with clear delight. Dick grinned back at him.

“Fuck Batman.”

* * *

The Joker came for Tim again the next morning, and Damian helplessly watched as his half-conscious brother was dragged away.

This time, Tim was chained to a wall with his hands high enough in the air that he knew it would start to hurt soon. The Joker was pacing the floor of the warehouse in front of him, examining a table of tools and singing to himself. He did this for about twenty minutes before turning to Tim and smiling.

“So the little birdy stitched you shut. That’s fine, that’s fine. I guess I’ll just have to do something the little birdy _can’t_ fix.”

“You could always just fuck up a computer. He’s shit with them,” Tim replied, voice hoarse from the strain of the day before.

“The bird chirps! It’s a Christmas miracle!” The Joker crowed.

“That’s incredible! Pity I’m Jewish. Can’t appreciate it.”

The Joker didn’t respond, instead focusing on his tools. Finally, he found one that satisfied him, and he let out a cackle as he reached for it.

As he turned around Tim’s heart dropped out of his chest.

The Joker was holding a crowbar.

“Poetic, isn’t it, birdy? Two birds, one rod.”

“Really, that same fucking joke? Oy vey, get some new material.”

Tim braced himself as the Joker raised his arms to swing. The blow landed heavy on his right knee. Tim screamed. There wasn’t much point in keeping quiet anymore.

The Joker taunted him as he swung time and time again.

“I really thought you were going to kick it yesterday, little bird. You really did look like _Red_ Robin last night.

“It’s so sweet how the baby birdy cares so much about his big brother. It makes me just want to eat him up!

“I wonder how Batsy’s going to scream when he finds you. Too bad I’ll be busy setting up a _very_ painful end for the baby birdy.”

And on and on it went for hours, Joker taunting and lashing out. Tim lost his voice in hour three, so the only noises in the room were the Joker’s barbs and his own ragged breathing. Finally, the Joker dropped the crowbar and began looking around the table for something.

“Going soft, Joker?” Tim rasped.

“Oh no, birdy. Never! I’ve just got a better plan for you. Baby birdy might have some tricks up his sleeve for swelling and broken bones, but he definitely doesn’t have something for _this_.” The Joker held his prize aloft. It looked like a portable gas cylinder hooked up to an oxygen mask.

“Is that-”

“A super strong dose of fear gas, birdy, just for you,” The Joker sang. He darted forward and pinned Tim’s head to the wall, jamming the mask over his mouth and nose.

* * *

It took six more hours for Babs to track down the Joker’s hideout. They’d had to give up on finding any footage of the boys after discovering the Joker’s goons had taken out every camera in a six-block radius around the site of the kidnapping, so she’d been focusing on tracking down any suspicious locations that could be housing his hideout.

The property in question was a large warehouse about a mile away from Gotham Light and Power, far away from any witnesses. Which was good, considering the sheer amount of firepower Dick and Jason were shoving into various utility belts, motorcycle storage compartments, and totally non-suspicious duffle bags.

“Batman is going to kill us, guys,” Wally said uneasily. Artemis and Bizarro had left to take care of an issue in Crime Alley, leaving Wally stranded with two pissed off bats and his only backup on a plane. _Babs, please get here soon,_ he prayed.

“I don’t fucking care what Bruce has to say about this,” Dick growled, “My brothers are in danger and I’m done with letting him go. If Bruce has a problem, he can fucking fight me.”

“Dickster’s wylin,” Jason said, admiration in his voice.

“Okay, I get that, but do you really need this many guns?”

“We’re like Girl Scouts, Wally. Always prepared,” Jason replied solemnly.

“Isn’t that the Boy Scouts?”

“I mean, yeah, technically, but the Boy Scouts are trash so in this house we stan the Girl Scouts.”

“Plus, they have fantastic cookies,” Dick added as he zipped up the last bag, “And we’re ready to go.”

“Do you guys have a plan?”

“Yep. You’re going to run ahead and figure out where Joker’s holding them and then if possible you can run in there and grab them and then we’ll come in after and fuck the Joker up,” Dick told him as he adjusted some settings on his helmet.

“Alright, fine. But for the record, I think this is a bad idea and Batman’s going to eviscerate us all.”

“Your opinion has been noted and disregarded. Now go find my baby brothers.”

Wally nodded and sped off. The brother got on their bikes and took off after him.

“He’s so whipped,” Jason told Dick.

“He’s what?”

“Dios, you still aren’t dating him? Just ask him out already. It’s been ten fucking years, idiota.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s straight and dating O.” Jason scoffed.

“Okay, first of all, I’ve seen the way he looks at your ass. He’s definitely not straight. Second, the idea of anyone who has associated with anyone from our family for as long as he has being straight is completely laughable. They would inevitably get corrupted by the chaotic bisexual vibes we all seem to emit. As for the dating Babs thing, just ask him? It’s not that deep.”

“You’re one to talk, Mister Pining-for-Arsenal-for-Eternity.”

“After I kill the Joker, you’re next.”

“Um, I’m killing the Joker.”

“Fuck you, he killed me!”

“He’s tried to take all my brothers away from me!”

“Boys, boys, you’re both pretty,” Babs said over the coms, “Now focus on the fucking mission.”

“Sorry, O,” They replied sheepishly.

“And Nightwing?”

“Yes, O?”

“Wally and I _are_ dating, but you do have an open invitation to join.” There was a moment of silence before Jason let out a whoop.

“Damn, bro, that’s impressive. Fastest man alive and the most amazing person alive? Get it.”

“I’m glad you approve, Hood,” Babs replied, “Nightwing, are you okay?”

“Dios, O, you broke him! He’s actually quiet! This is fucking phenomenal.”

“D-d-did you mean it?”

“Yes, Nightwing, I was being serious. We’ll talk about this more once we get your brothers back, okay?”

“Okay.”

Jason was laughing the entire ride to the warehouse.

* * *

Tim was conscious when he was taken back to their cell, but he was really beginning to wish he wasn’t. His body felt like one massive bruise and was starting to shake from the inevitable fear gas adrenaline rush.

Damian grabbed him as Joker’s goons shoved him into the cell and lowered him gently to the floor.

“Good luck fixing him this time, baby birdy,” the Joker sang before abandoning them.

“Damian,” Tim gasped, “Fear gas.” Damian’s eyes widened.

“Shit,” he whispered.

“Don’t swear. Dick’ll be upset.” Damian didn’t bother responding, instead mentally running through all the ways of treating fear gas. None of which were available, because they were imprisoned in a warehouse with a madman.

“Tim, I can’t stop you from having this reaction. I need you to tell me what sort of reactions fear gas induces for you so that I can amend the situation to the best of my ability.” Tim whimpered and turned away.

“Tim, tell me _now_. Let me help you, please.”

“Don’t wanna be alone,” The older boy muttered.

“Then I won’t leave you alone,” Damian promised. He dragged Tim over to the corner as carefully as possible and propped them both up in the corner, wrapping himself around his brother’s body. Tim hugged Damian tightly back, body shaking as his adrenaline levels skyrocketed.

The hallucinations started out mild, just images of the Drake Manor of his childhood- hell, of the present day- the dark, dusty, empty mansion. Wandering through the halls, draped in a blanket to make the darkness less terrifying and the chill less biting. It was winter in Gotham and he didn’t understand the thermostat.

Then the scene changed, and he was in the Cave. Bruce was there, back to him.

“Bruce?” He whispered. The man slowly turned.

“You’re still here?” He asked.

“W-what do you mean?”

“You haven’t left yet? You didn’t get the message? Dick wasn’t clear enough? You’re not needed. Go back to Drake Manor, kid. We don’t need another wannabe vigilante hanging around.”

“B-but-”

“I said get out! Oy vey, you can’t even tell when you’re not wanted and you expect to be my partner? Pathetic.”

“N-no, please, don’t-” But it was Dick now, Dick’s face glaring down at him with displeasure.

“God, I knew I should have just locked you up in Arkham. You’re clearly delusional enough to believe you mattered to us.”

“No, Dick, please-”

“C’mon, off to Arkham with you, Timmy.”

“No, Dick, Dick don’t do this, Dick _please_ ,” he cried as Dick started to drag him towards one of the Asylum’s transports, “Stop, Dick, please stop!”

“It’s gotta happen, kiddo. You’ve lost it, Timmy. Just like when you were little Joker Junior. Honestly, it’s a miracle you’ve kept your madness under wraps this long. But don’t worry, Timmy, the nice doctors will make it all better.”

“Dick, let go of me! Please, Dick, don’t do this to me! Don’t do this, Dick, please, just stop! Please, Dick, stop this. Please,” he sobbed brokenly as his older brother surrendered him into the custody of the orderlies and his suit was stripped off to be replaced with a straitjacket.

And then he was alone, in a padded cell, just lying on the floor. It was cold. He couldn’t move his arms to work the thermostat. Dust bit at his eyes until he was sobbing and then the laughter started up again.

Timothy Jackson Drake started his life alone. He might as well end it like that, too.

* * *

Wally flew into the warehouse at top speed and immediately slammed into the floor. A power suppression collar was clapped around his neck.

He was hauled to his feet and he noticed the floor around him was covered in marbles. The Joker stood on the other side of the room, looking remarkably pleased with himself.

“I’m doing great,” he said to himself, “Knockin’ ‘em out of the park! Two birdies and one speedster? I’m going to rule the world by the time I’m done!”

“Oh, yeah? ‘Cuz there’s an army headed your way, Joker, and they’re going to fuck. You. Up.”

“Eh, what're a few more birdies with this streak of luck? Take this one away from me; he’s boring. But don’t keep him with the birdies. They’ll cause too much trouble together.” The goons holding him up nodded before dragging him off.

There were screams echoing through the warehouse, but he couldn’t see who they were coming from until they rounded a corner. There was a row of cells, and Damian and Tim were in one of them. Tim was the one screaming, and Damian had a death grip on him. The kids both looked terrified.

“Fear gas?” He mouthed at Damian. The boy nodded. _Shit._

Wally was flung into the cell next to them. Immediately after the guards left, he scrambled to the corner closest to their cell.

“What’s your condition, Robin?”

“Tim is covered in cuts, beaten badly, probably has a concussion, and has been dosed with fear gas. I am fine,” Damian responded.

“How are you fine?”

“Tim bargained with the Joker. He convinced him it would be worse for Father if we were killed one at a time. He also convinced the Joker to torture him first.”

“Damn that self-sacrificing dumbass to hell. Don’t worry, the other two will be here soon and they’ll figure out pretty quickly that I’ve been captured.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Damian whispered. Tim just kept screaming.

* * *

Cerys arrived at work two hours late and didn’t realize anything was wrong for another hour, when she attempted to deliver Tim his noontime coffee and realized he wasn’t there. She immediately went to the phone and called Tam.

“Cerys, I’m a little busy-”

“You better get down here quick,” she said, “Tim’s missing.”

“Shit. I’ll be right there.”

Tam arrived just a minute later, panting from having run across the floor in a pair of Louboutin Decollete 554s.

“Any indication he came in this morning?” She asked.

“No. None of his stuff’s here and I’m checking security cameras, but I haven’t seen any indication of him entering the building. I do know he was doing some… RR stuff last night.”

“I’m calling him.”

“Actually, he said if he went missing I should call a specific number he gave me.”

“So call it!”

Cerys whipped out her phone, found the contact, and dialed. She put the phone on speaker phone.

After three rings, the person picked up.

“Who the hell is this?”

“Uh, is this Oracle? This is Tim- I mean Red Robin’s assistant. He said to call you if he went missing?”

“We’re aware he went missing, thank you. Nightwing and Red Hood are on the case.”

“What about Batman?” Tam asked.

“Batman is with the Justice League in space right now. We haven’t been able to establish contact.”

“We might be able to,” Cerys interjected, “There’s an R&D project that Tim was yelling about the other day that could theoretically contact someone in space.”

“I know how to work it,” Tam added.

“It would be great if you two could do that,” Oracle responded, “I’ll send his contact info to your phone.”

“Great! We’ll call you back then. Bye!”

“Goodbye.” There was a click as the call terminated.

“Down to R&D?” Tam said.

“Sounds good.” They took off for the elevator. Once they got down to the subterranean R&D floor they headed straight for the room with the comm system.

“Everybody out!” Tam ordered as they barged in the room, “We’re firing this baby up.”

“Ma’am, it’s still too early to guarantee full function,” one of the researchers attempted to protest. Cerys got in his face.

“She wasn’t asking, nerd. Now scram.” He gulped and ran off.

“Thanks. Now I need you to do some things for me,” Tam said before giving Cerys a few directions. The other girl ran off to complete them while Tam focused on programming the machine to track down Batman’s location. Within a few minutes, she had locked onto his signal.

“Wayne Enterprises to Batman, please respond, over.”

Static.

“Again, Wayne Enterprises to Batman, please respond, over.”

Static again before a crackle.

“Batman speaking, over.”

“Batman, Red Robin and Robin have been taken by the Joker. Nightwing, Red Hood, and Kid Flash have responded but Oracle has requested your return to base. Over.”

“Tell Oracle A and I are returning immediately. Over.”

“Yes, sir, we will. Over.”

* * *

Clark had never seen Bruce this angry.

“Someone take me back to Earth. _Now_ ,” he growled. Doctor Fate stepped forward.

“I will teleport both you and your…friend back to Earth, but it will take me about ten hours to create one.”

“Fine.” Bruce stalked off.

“I’ll go after him,” Clark responded. He followed Bruce down the hallway before the other man turned off into a room and sat heavily on what passed for a couch on this planet. Clark sat down beside him and gently placed a hand on his back.

“It’s going to be alright, Bruce.”

“I’m going to fucking kill the Joker.”

“Bruce…”

“I’m not fucking joking, Clark. You might have stopped me last time but you’re not stopping me now. He’s gone after my sons too many times and I can’t fucking take it anymore.” Bruce was shaking, clearly trying to rein in a breakdown. Clark pulled him into a side hug.

“Alright, Bruce. If you’re positive about this, I’ll support it.”

“I will not,” Alfred said from the door. Bruce raised his head, enraged.

“How can you fucking say that? You, of all people-” Alfred raised a hand.

“Master Bruce, I do not dispute the necessity of the cessation of that despicable piece of refuse’s life, I merely dispute who shall be the carrier of justice in this instance.”

“Alfred, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Yes-” Alfred unbuttoned his coat and pulled out a Ballester-Molina .45 pistol- “I am suggesting that I be the one to eliminate him instead.”

They both stared at Alfred, Clark with dawning horror and Bruce with satisfaction.

“You know what, Alfred? You’re absolutely right.”

* * *

As Dick and Jason arrived at the warehouse, their hackles were immediately raised. Wally was nowhere in sight, and neither were Tim and Damian.

“Something’s up,” Dick said, “Get your guns out.”

“Which guns? Because we have a bigger _arsenal_ than Roy.” Dick stopped to glare at him.

“Really? Dick jokes while on a rescue mission?”

“Listen, I am trying not to have a panic attack because, ya’ know, Joker. Warehouse. No bueno,” Jason responded, hands gripping tightly around the handles of his pistols.

Dick walked up to him and quickly wrapped him in a hug.

“I’m sorry, little wing. Let’s get this over with first and then I want to talk to you about some things. You’re not getting out of it, either.”

“Damn,” Jason said sarcastically as he desperately tried (and failed) to pretend he wasn’t enjoying the hug, “Feelings time with the Dickster. This’ll be great.”

“Love you, too, little brother,” Dick said with a grin as he stepped back, “Now let’s go figure out what’s going on.”

“I go low, you go high?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Dick carefully made his way up to the top of the warehouse and peered in the windows.

“Can’t see anyone. I’m moving in.”

“Be careful, N.”

“You too, Hood.” Dick crept in one of the windows and rappelled down to the mid-level roof of some offices. Once in, he looked around further.

There were no people on the ground floor, but there was a table covered in torture implements close to the opposite wall. There was also a surgery table and as Dick looked closer he could see manacles attached to the wall. On the ground near the manacles there was a bloody crowbar.

“ _Shit_ ,” he whispered.

“N? What’s up?”

“I’ve got blood. No people. And a…torture instrument,” he replied before noticing the marbles, “And there're marbles on the ground by the entrances, so it’s pretty safe to say Joker’s got Wally.”

“Nightwing, what kind of torture instrument?” Because of-fucking-course _that_ was what Jason chose to focus on.

“A crowbar,” he admitted.

“I’m coming in now,” Jason’s voice was tight with rage and fear. Before Dick could respond, he’d kicked the door in. Dick jumped off the roof to join him on the ground floor.

“Where the hell did they go?” Jason growled.

“Look, there’s a trail of blood.” They both got their weapons out and began to follow it. It led to a dark corridor in the back wall of the warehouse. They both switched to night vision on and went in.

There were cells lining one of the walls. They were peering in the third one when they heard a low hiss.

“Air filter!” Dick yelled, but it was too late. The knockout gas was already beginning to take effect. Dick fell to his knees, coughing and trying to get his filter from his utility belt. Jason began looking around for the threat, but the gas soon overpowered his mask and he collapsed too.

The Joker’s laugh echoed off the walls as they lost consciousness.

* * *

Tim woke up with a groan.

He was in more pain than he had ever been in before. There wasn’t a single part of his body that wasn’t hurting. It certainly didn’t help that Damian was wrapped around him like a vice.

“Dami’, g’off,” he grumbled. Damian startled.

“Tim, you’re awake.” The relief in the young boy’s voice was practically tangible.

“I wish I wasn’t.”

“You were right.”

“I was what?”

“Dick and Jason did come for us. They and Wally West have also been captured.”

“Oy gevalt,” Tim said, “Is there anything that didn’t get completely fucked to hell while I was hallucinating? Was there any good news? Like, at all?”

“Jason is awake and has detailed to me his plan to assassinate Donald Trump. It is a remarkable plan.”

“Yeah,” Jason yelled from his own cell, “I’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Seeing as our family is made up entirely from people he despises, I’m not surprised,” Dick added.

“What about Bruce? He’s a white billionaire.” Wally added.

“Liberal, bi, Jewish, nice to poor people,” Tim said, “So he’s in the ‘people Trump hates’ Venn diagram too.”

“Bruce is Jewish? I didn’t know that,” Wally said, “Also, he’s bi?”

“Sometimes I think even Bruce forgets he’s Jewish. I asked him about it once after his cousin said something about inviting us over for Hanukah and he just stared at me for like a minute before going ‘Oh, right. Uh, Hanukah. When is that again?’” Dick added, “But I guess expecting him to remember that is asking too much from the guy who's forgotten his middle name, birthday, social security number, address, and the location of his passport in the span of about five minutes.”

“One time I asked him how many kids he had and he didn’t know. He told me to ‘Just count everyone who shows up to dinner tonight and add three for good measure,’” Jason interjected, sounding very amused, “Which brought us to twelve. He chalked it up to an accident but found it weirdly amusing.”

Tim snorted.

“Twelve kids, twelve tribes of Israel,” he muttered. Damian gave him a strange look.  

“How do you accidentally obtain twelve kids?”

“I dunno, Wally, how do you accidentally become a speedster?”

“Oh, fuck you, Dick!”

“Please, do fuck him,” Jason said, “I can finally be free of his stupid pining.”

“Hey, I’m not _that_ bad!”

“Sorry, Dick, you really are,” Tim said.

“I must concur with the others, Grayson.”

“I’m disowning all of you,” Dick grumbled, “Duke is the only brother I have left because unlike the rest of you he isn’t a complete asshole.”

“This is blatant Terry erasure and I won’t stand for it,” Tim said.

“Terry’s an asshole, too, so he’s being counted in that number.”

“Also, Tim, you are physically incapable of standing at the moment,” Damian added. Dick let out a noise like a distressed dolphin.

“What did the Joker do to him?”

“I’m fine, Di-”

“Tim has a large number of knife wounds, has been severely beaten with a blunt instrument, dosed with fear gas, and subjected to psychological torture. Also, he has a concussion.”

“Oy vey, Damian, why did you have to tell him? Now he’s going to freak out!”

“I am very freaked out! That’s bad, Tim.”

“Guess we know what the crowbar was for,” Jason growled.

“Calm down, guys, it’s already happened. I’m fine.”

“You are in a genuinely disturbing amount of pain, Tim. You are decidedly not ‘fine.’”

“I can personally attest to being beaten with a crowbar making you very not fine,” Jason attempted to joke, “OW! What the hell, Dick!”

“This is not a time for jokes, Jason!”

“Oh, I _beg_ to differ,” said the Joker.

“Then beg,” Damian mumbled. Tim giggled.

“I have four birdies and some boring little irritation,” the Joker sang, “How magnificent am I? I have a full set of birds!”

“Hey!” Wally protested.

“You don’t have the full set, ass wipe,” Tim said, “There have been five Robins, not four, and good fucking luck getting robin number four here.”

“I like him,” Jason whispered to Dick, who smacked him over the head.

“Birdy, you’re still alive! And chirping. This is such a gift.”

“You know what would be a real gift? If you got turned into a blintz and snatched by a cat.”

“Burnnnnnn,” Wally said. The Joker looked furious.

“Just for that, birdy, you’re all getting hurt today.”

“Oh, no,” Jason snarked, “Torture. However will I cope?”

“Dick, I hate your family.”

“Me too, Wally, me too.”

Goons opened up Tim and Damian’s and Dick and Jason’s cells.

“I want both the hurt birdy and the oldest birdy,” the Joker ordered, “I’ll let the other birdies be…for now.”

Once Dick and Tim were in position- Tim strapped to the table again and Dick chained to the wall- the Joker took a step back and examined his handiwork.

“No, no, no,” he muttered, “This is no good. No good at all. It’s lacking that…oomph. Get the other birdies and that boring little man and chain them to the other wall. My performance needs an audience.”

* * *

Bruce was pacing the floor as Doctor Fate put the finishing touches on his portal. The other members of the Justice League were gathered to see him off.

“We will gladly come with you, Bruce,” Diana offered, “We understand this is a difficult situation and wish to be of assistance.”

“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. I don’t want any of you stopping us from killing him.”

“I will not deter you from your quest. I wish instead to aid it by evacuating your children to safety if necessary as you defeat him.”

“Fine, you can come. But only you,” he said as he glared at her with the irritation of a man who knew from the start he was fighting a losing battle. She smiled back.

“What, I’m not allowed?” Hal joked.            

“You are banned from my city with a vengeance.”

“What about me?” Green Arrow asked.

“You’re on thin fucking ice and that’s only if Roy says it’s okay.”

“Are-did he just protective dad zone me over my own son? Dinah, did you see that?”

“Yes, Oliver, I have functioning eyes and ears.”

“This is not okay. You have too many sons, you can’t steal _mine_. Not cool, Bruce, not cool.”

“The portal is ready,” Doctor Fate announced. The three of them turned to him and walked forward when he gestured to them. They stepped through the portal one by one and stepped out in the Watch Tower.  Immediately, they made their way over to the Zeta tubes and zetad to Gotham. Once there, Bruce contacted Oracle.

“O, this is Batman. Wonder Woman, A, and I have arrived in Gotham.”

“Oh, thank god. I’ve lost radio contact with all of them. I’m sending coordinates to you now.”

“Got it. We’ll need to grab the Batmobile from the Cave first.” Diana snorted.

“There is no need for that, Bruce. I can fly both of you easily, and Oracle can send some emergency vehicles after us.” And with that, the Amazon picked them both up and took off.

They touched down just minutes later and Bruce immediately scanned the warehouse with a thermal camera.

“It looks like they’re all in the main room,” he said, “and I’ve got a plan.”

* * *

The Joker was humming “Who Killed Cock Robin” as he selected his torture device of the day, and Tim was really starting to hate nursery rhymes.

“Would you mind singing something different this time? That song’s getting boring,” he said. The Joker whipped around, a hammer in his hand.

“Good little birdies need to learn to stay quiet,” he said, “And this will be just the thing to teach you.”

“I find that not torturing children is a better disciplinary action in the long run,” Bruce said from atop the office block, “But, hey, what do I know about parenting?”

“Batsy!” The Joker shrieked, turning on his heel, “Oh, Batsy, how I’ve missed you!”

“The feeling isn’t mutual.” The Joker pouted as Diana snuck through the back door. She quietly took down the goons as Bruce kept the Joker distracted.

“Aww, you don’t have to lie to me, Batsy. Unfortunately, you arrived too soon! Your presents aren’t ready yet.”

“That’s horrible,” Bruce replied, “But lucky enough, I’ve got one for you.” He pulled a gun out of a hidden holster and aimed it at the Joker’s head. The Joker smirked and burst out laughing.

“As if you’d ever kill me, Batsy! It’d ruin your whole schtick!”

“You’re right, Joker, I won’t shoot you,” Bruce said pleasantly, “but _he_ will.” A gunshot split the air with a crack and the Joker dropped.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for years,” said Alfred.

Tim’s laughter startled them all.

“While the cruel Cock Sparrow was hung on a gibbet, the cause of their grief, next day, like a thief,” he sang before passing out.

Bruce didn’t respond, to busy jumping off the office block and running over to Tim. He took a knife from his belt and began cutting away the straps that held Tim down.

“Several knife wounds, severe beating with a crowbar, residual effects of fear gas, and a probable concussion,” Damian replied, breaking away from Diana and running over to Tim’s side, “I treated the knife wounds as best I could, but he’s got broken bones I couldn’t fix.”

“We need to get him to the Cave,” Bruce responded, “Diana! Can you fly both him and myself first and then come back for the others?” She shook her head.

“In his condition I would need both hands to carry him.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here,” Connor Kent stepped out from the shadows behind them, “I heard Tim’s heartbeat was off the second I got back to Earth. I’ll take him and Wonder Woman can take you guys.” Bruce nodded his consent and the boy very gently lifted Tim off the table before taking off. Diana grabbed Bruce and Alfred once more before following.

When they arrived they wasted no time getting Tim onto an operating table and getting out the medical scanner.

“You two go get the others,” Bruce said, “We’ll get him prepped for surgery.” They nodded and flew off.

“Oh, Tim,” he said, turning back to his son, “What did that bastard do to you?”

* * *

Bruce, Alfred, and Dick had been in the surgery room with Tim for the past six hours. Leslie had arrived a few minutes after Damian had, and Kon had been called in as well since his X-Ray vision was useful for identifying injuries. Diana had been called away to another rescue mission, and so all Damian and Jason could do was wait. There were no words of comfort, no “he’ll be okay.” They both knew too much about injuries to be comforted by that lie at the moment.

“You doing alright, kid?” Jason asked.

“No,” Damian responded. He was curled up in a ball on one of the chairs in the Cave. Jason sighed.

“C’mon, get up. You’re going to bed. _I’m_ going to bed. We’re going to bed. We’re not of any help dead on our feet.”

“I don’t want to,” Damian grumbled, “I want to stay up until I know if Tim will be alright.”

“Then you’ll die of sleep deprivation. Now shut up, it’s bedtime.”

“No.”

“Dios! What is the fucking hang up?”

“You do not understand! If- if he _dies_ , it’s my fault!” His yells echoed off the walls of the Cave and startled the bats.

“Well shit, kid. Why the hell do you think that?”

“If I had not forced him to go on this case he would not have been captured. If he had not been captured, he would not have been hurt protecting me.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Damian, you’re not to blame for the Joker’s crazy bullshit. No one is to blame for the Joker’s bullshit but the Joker. And the Joker is dead. So pick up the pieces of your shattered life and move on. Boom. Motivational speech nailed.”

“I mean you really didn’t nail it, but I’ll let you live with your delusions,” Wally said as he emerged from the Manor, holding a tray of cookies.

“Where’d you get those?” Jason asked.

“Uh, I baked them?”

Jason narrowed his eyes at Wally, recalling all of the incidents he’d heard about from Dick where Wally nearly destroyed the kitchen.

“Try that again, Wally.”

“Auntie Iris baked them,” he admitted.

“So they’re not only edible but delicious. Great. Have a cookie, Damian.”

“No,” The brat said.

“Shut the fuck up and eat a fucking cookie, brat.”

“Fine.” Damian took a cookie and begrudgingly took a bite. Immediately after he took another one, and soon he was finished with the cookie and reaching for more.

“I’m such a great brother,” Jason told Wally.

“Didn’t you try to murder all of your brothers at some point?”

“Fuck off, West, or I won’t let you date Dick.”

“You don’t control him.”

“No, but I can tell him you insulted Damian, and then he won’t speak to you anymore. Boom. I win. Suck it.”

“You’re the picture of maturity.”

“Yeah, yeah, West. Oi, Damian. You done eating yourself into diabetes yet? Because it’s bedtime.”

“I am not going to bed,” Damian said stubbornly as he grabbed four more cookies.

“Alright, listen, brat, I know you’re not allowed to have your animals on your bed. So, I will allow you to borrow my bed so you can bring your animals with you if you promise to actually try and sleep.”

Damian considered this offer for about five full minutes before conceding.

* * *

Once Damian was tucked into bed and had dozed off, Jason let out a sigh of relief.

“You’re surprisingly good with him,” Wally said.

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that it’s hard to get along with Damian. And you’re not exactly the family togetherness type. So I was pleasantly surprised, that’s all.”

“I’ve gotten better about being nice to my siblings,” Jason grumbled.

“I’ve heard, I’d just never personally seen it. Anyways, weren’t you going to bed yourself?”

“I’ll just sleep on one of the couches in the Cave. I’m worried about the kid and I want to be close enough to help out if I need to. Because, unlike Damian, I do have medical training.”

“Fair enough,” Wally said, “Listen, I’ve got to run. Bart needs to talk to me about something. Be back in a flash.” He ran off.

“I hate that you made that joke. I hate that I know that Dick loves that joke. Fuck my life,” Jason grumbled as he headed back to the cave.

* * *

The surgery went on for nearly thirty-two hours.

Once they actually got Tim on the table, they quickly realized the damage was more extensive than they’d thought. Not only did he have multiple broken bones that required surgery, but he also had internal bleeding, multiple organ failure, massive blood loss, a fractured skull, and damage to his lungs. And there had been a few…surprises.

Like:

“Alright, we’re checking his spleen next,” Leslie said as they finished checking his liver, “Wait a minute. Where _is_ his spleen?”

“Presumably it’s in his body,” Bruce replied.

“Well, it’s not. He’s clearly had a splenectomy in the past couple of years or so.”

“Dick, did Tim have surgery while I was gone?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Well, we’ll add that to the list of things to ask Tim about when he wakes up.”

And:

“Is that a tattoo?”

“I thought I banned tattoos.”

“Well, apparently he didn’t listen.”

“You know what? We’ll ask him about it when he wakes up.”

And also:

“Why did Tim hide a micro USB stick in his leg?” Dick asked, holding the object up. Bruce sighed.

“We’ll ask him when he wakes up.”

But at last, they had finished all the operations, and by some miracle Tim was still breathing. They got him settled in a hospital bed and hooked up to all the IVs, oxygen masks, and vital monitors that he needed and then went to collect the others.

“So, do we need a Lazarus pit?” Jason joked as they re-entered the main part of the cave.

“No, Jason, we don’t,” Bruce responded, “He’s still critical condition, but he’s stable now.” Both Jason and Damian looked relieved.

“Can I see him, Father?”

“Of course. He’s not awake, though.” Damian nodded and scrambled off.

“Well? What was the damage?” Jason asked.

“Bad,” Bruce replied, “He was missing a spleen.”

“The Joker took his spleen?”

“Oh no, that I could understand. It looks like it’s been gone at least a year based on the scarring. Add into that organ failure, blood loss, traumatic brain injury, broken bones…to be blunt, Jason, I don’t know if he’s ever going to wake up.”

“Dios,” Jason muttered, “Perhaps we better get working on finding a Lazarus pit after all.”

“Shouldn’t be too difficult considering Ra’s wants to fuck Tim,” Conner added before yawning. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at him. “What? Was it something I said?”

“Please stop reminding me that my son’s grandfather wants to fuck my other son,” Bruce said, “It’s a very horrifying thing for me and I don’t want to acknowledge it if I don’t have to given that it makes me feel homicidal.”

“You killed someone the day before yesterday, B,” Dick pointed out, “I don’t think you’re that bothered by being homicidal.”

“Well, that’s different. I’d almost killed the son of a bitch before and I’d kill him myself if I was faced with him. Actually, I don’t want to have to be upset enough to do it again. Alfred, make a note that after I wake up from my nap I need to break into the morgue and steal Joker’s body. I’ll cremate it myself to make sure he doesn’t get brought back.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jason chimed in.

“You will drink to _nothing_ , son, you’re only nineteen. On another note, you’re all benched for at least the next month. This has been a very traumatic experience for everyone and I’m not sending you back into the field until I’ve made sure everyone is doing better.” Dick and Jason both groaned.

“But, B-” He raised his hand.

“No protests. Now I’m going to bed. We’ll talk in the morning. Goodnight, boys.”

“Goodnight, Dad,” they muttered.

After Bruce had left, Dick turned to Jason, clearly about to pass out.

“C’mon, little wing, let’s talk.”

“Hell no, old-timer. You’re dead on your feet. Just go sleep for a bit and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“No,” Dick slurred, “You’ll run away.”

“I’m not running this time, Dick. Not without knowing if Tim’s going to make it. So I’ll be there tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Okay. Night, Jase. I love you.”

“Good night, Dickie. I love you, too.”

* * *

In the three days it took Tim to wake up, Damian barely left his side. He sat curled up in an armchair by Tim’s bed, reading or sketching or just petting the cat in silence. Sometimes he read his books aloud to Tim, reasoning that even if his sleeping brother couldn’t understand Arabic he would still appreciate the sentiment.

Unlike what the rest of the family seemed to think, Damian’s decision to attach himself to Tim’s side had little to do with guilt.

 _“Tim, tell me_ now _. Let me help you, please.” “Don’t wanna be alone.”_

“I will not let you wake up alone, Tim,” he promised as he watched the older boy’s chest rise and fall.

When the others had had their meeting the morning after Tim’s surgery, they had discussed Damian’s unusual behavior.

“He’s actually calling Tim ‘Tim,’ Bruce! I’m telling you, something’s up.”

“Yeah, Dickie-bird’s right. Something _is_ up with bat junior. He expressed guilt over Tim getting hurt. Guilt! From Damian!”

“That’s…quite alarming. Maybe he’s been injected with some mood-altering substance.”

“If I may offer a logical conclusion to this dilemma,” Alfred snarked, “Perhaps it is merely that Master Tim and Master Damian bonded during their shared traumatic experience and Master Damian is merely acting in accordance with that bond.”

The trio of emotionally constipated idiots stared at him.

“I think Alfred’s out to steal your title of world’s greatest detective, Bruce,” Jason said with awe.

Then Tim flatlined and Damian had a panic attack while they resuscitated him. By the time they had finally gotten Damian calmed down, Dick and Jason had both forgotten about having their talk.

The past two days had been relatively uneventful. Bruce did paperwork, Jason read, Dick exercised. Alfred fretted over Damian and Tim. Everyone attempted to ignore the fact that they were all going to have to talk about what had happened at some point.

But on the afternoon of the third day, things changed. Damian was dozing with Alfred the cat in his lap when he heard Tim stir. He jerked awake, startling the cat into running away. Tim’s eyes cracked open slowly. He tried to speak but could only rasp.

“Don’t try talking. Father said your throat was damaged and you need to rest it. But I have been informed that we both speak American Sign Language, so you may use that to communicate.”

“Water,” Tim signed to him. Damian handed him a glass.

“I will give you a minute to adjust before alerting the others.”

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes before Tim signed that he was alright for visitors. Immediately Damian shot to his feet and into the cave.

“He’s awake!” He screamed. Cursing and the sounds of running followed this announcement as the family raced over.

They all jammed themselves into the small room.  Dick was excitedly chattering at Tim, Jason was yelling at him to shut up, and Bruce was calmly trying to get everyone to quiet themselves.

“Shut up,” Tim signed. No one seemed to notice.

“Tim says ‘shut up,’” Damian growled. They all did, looking slightly ashamed of themselves.

“Sorry, Timmers,” Jason said, “We’re all just very relieved you’re alive.”

“Are you in pain?” Bruce asked, reaching for the morphine drip controller. Tim shook his head.

“Alright, we’ll let you rest for now. Damian, let’s get you back to bed,” Bruce ordered.

“I am satisfied where I am, Father.”

“Tim needs to rest.”

“I will be quiet.”

“Let him stay,” Tim signed, “He’s not bothering me.” He gave Damian a small smile. Damian tentatively tried to replicate it. Bruce sighed before waving Jason and Dick out of the room.

“Fine. Just kick him out if he starts to. You need your rest, Tim.” He left as well.

Tim shifted over in the bed, making enough space for Damian to join him. He patted the empty space with one heavily bandaged hand. Damian shook his head.

“You need to rest.”

“So do you.”

“I didn’t go through days of torture and surgery.”

“Okay, fine. Do it for me, then. Comfort me after my painful experiences.” Damian climbed up on the bed and settled down next to Tim. Tim lifted his arm with a wince and settled it around Damian’s shoulders. Damian carefully curled into his brother’s body, holding himself still so as not to damage him.

“I’m alright, Dami,” Tim whispered, “I’m okay. You kept me alive.”

“Barely! You were dead for four minutes. And it was all my fault.” To his embarrassment and dawning horror, Damian began to cry. Tim looked alarmed and began trying to calm him, rubbing his shoulder with his hand and shushing him.

“It’s not your fault, Dami,” He rasped once Damian had calmed down a bit, “It’s the Joker’s fault. Plus, I provoked him into going after me. You’re not to blame, Dami, and hey, even if I did die I’d just be carrying out the grand Robin tradition, right?” Tim’s voice cracked painfully as he tried to inject some levity into his words. Damian started crying harder.

“Shit, Dami, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have joked about that.”

“It’s not that,” Damian hissed, “You provoked him to protect me. How am I supposed to live with that? If you had died, how was I supposed to live with myself knowing that my efforts to prevent something had instead brought it about?”

“You were trying to prevent my death?” Tim asked, frowning.

“I was _trying_ to prevent you from leaving this family and destroying it in your wake!” Damian snapped.

“Uh, wow,” Tim blinked, “That was, uh, not an answer I was expecting?”

“You are insufferable,” Damian sobbed, “and I should have murdered you when I first arrived in this miserable city.”

“I love you, too?”

“You should not be speaking! Desist from this course of action at once!”

“’K. Night, Dami.” Tim closed his eyes and was asleep shortly thereafter.

“Goodnight,” Damian mumbled as he reached over to turn off the light.

* * *

“Little wing,” Dick said. Jason looked up from his book to see his brother standing in the doorway to his reading room.

“Wassup, Dickster?”

“We’re going to have that talk.” Jason froze.

“I don’t think-”

“It’s necessary? Too bad, Jason. I do.”

“Fine,” Jason growled, closing the book carefully and setting in on his coffee table, “Let’s talk, Dick. Ignoring the fact that we have nothing to talk about.”

“That’s not true, little wing. I owe you an apology.”

“You _what_?”

“I haven’t been fair to you. I’ve been holding you to standards I haven’t held others to. I’ve been expecting you to be someone you’re not and then getting mad at you when you weren’t that person. Because…because I want you to be the kid I lost, Jason, and you’re not that kid anymore. Well, you are, but you’ve changed, and I just want you to be that kid that I…I failed. I was a terrible brother. I just got too caught up in my own fight with Bruce to realize that you needed me…that you needed a brother. I only realized just how little attention I’d paid to you when I got back to Earth and you’d already been buried. The Joker was already locked up, and he was in bad shape- Clark had to drag Bruce away from beating the life out of him. And then a few years after that, Joker broke out and he…he grabbed Tim. And he hurt him, bad. And I snapped and I beat him so bad I killed him. Because I looked at Tim in that moment and all I could see was another brother I’d failed. Someone brought him back while Bruce was trying to calm me down. Because I was mad, Jase, I was mad because I thought he had taken away my second chance. Because I fucking failed you and there was no way I could fix that but I could do all I could to make sure I didn’t fuck up Tim. And we all saw how well I handled that.

“I’m sorry, Jase, I’m just so fucking sorry. I was taking my guilt out on you and I’m not trying to make you pity me, I’m really not, because this isn’t an excuse but an explanation. I just don’t want you to think that my behavior was your fault. Because it wasn’t.” There was a pause as Dick sank down to the floor.

“I wasn’t fair to you, Jase, I really wasn’t. I’ve been angry at you for what happened with Tim when I never got mad at Damian for doing the same things. I don’t agree with your methods and I’ll never agree with them, but I shouldn’t have treated you like shit over it. And part of it is that I hate seeing you as the Hood. When you first appeared…when you first came back it was just this glaring reminder that I had failed you. And it’s not fair that I’ve been blaming you for my own issues.”

“You done?” Jason’s voice was full of some unfamiliar emotion. Dick nodded. Jason got up and walked over to him, sitting down beside him. He grabbed Dick’s hand.

“I accept your apology, Dick, but let’s clear up something real fucking quick. I’m glad you’ve been holding me accountable for what happened with Tim because, quite frankly, the little shit forgave me _way_ too easily. But you need to hold Damian to the same fucking standard when it comes to this shit, got it? Good. Also, you were kinda a shit brother. Mostly because you weren’t there. But I get it, Dick, I fucking get it. You weren’t happy about being replaced and my presence just made your feud with Bruce worse. I’m not excusing it and I’m definitely not blaming myself for it, but I _get it_. I was pissed about being replaced too. I think if you and I had just had the fucking time, we would have worked it out. But we didn’t cuz my shitty bio mom sold me to the Joker. Which sucked major ass but at the end of the day it isn’t any of our faults. It was hers and the clown bastards. But I’m _really_ glad you beat him to death. Just wish he coulda stayed that way.” Dick sniffled.

“If it helps any, I was insulting his skills as a clown the entire time I beat him.”

Jason laughed.

“That’s exactly what I expected from you, circus boy.” They sat for a moment, the only noise the howling of the wind outside the Manor.

“Did Bruce really try to kill him for me?”

“You didn’t know?” Dick asked, shock flooding his voice. Jason shrugged.

“I was on more-murder less-talking terms with the family until, y’know, recently.”

“Bruce was distraught, Jase. He was tearing Gotham to shreds in his grief. That’s why Tim showed up- he was stopping Bruce from self-destructing and taking the city with him.”

“Huh,” Said Jason, “I think I need to talk to Bruce about this and about something that came up with Tim.”

“What happened with Tim?”

“Before he got snatched I blackmailed him into driving me to the airport-”

“Jason!”

“-but that’s not the important part of this story. The important part of this story is that Tim doesn’t think Bruce is his dad.”

“What?”

“Yeah, he gave me this whole speech on how he wasn’t a member of this family and so I think he’s depressed. You should deal with that, and I should go talk to Bruce, and we should never have a conversation about feelings again after this all blows over.”

“No,” Dick said, wrapping Jason in a tight hug, “I’m instigating a weekly emotional brother conversation policy. Hugs are included and also mandatory.”

“You know what, Dick? That sounds great,” Jason said as he hugged his older brother back.

* * *

There was a knock-on Bruce’s door.

“Come in.” Jason opened the door.

“Hey, Bruce,” He said softly. Bruce set down the file he was reading and removed his glasses.

“What’s up, chum?” He gestured for Jason to take a seat. The boy did, closing the door.

“I think we need to talk about some things. And by the way, this is an emotional conversation so, ah, brace yourself.” Bruce froze.

“You’re…initiating an emotional conversation.”

“Yeah.”

“With me?”

“Don’t make this more painful than it needs to be, old man.”

“I was just wondering why.”

“Because you and I haven’t had an honest to god talk since before I got ganked, and we need to fucking fix that. I already talked to Dick and I’m coming for Alfred after this. So keep your ass in your chair because we’re having a fucking conversation about our fucking feelings because it needs to happen. I’ll start us off. I heard you tried to kill the Joker for me.”

Bruce blinked.

“Oh, uh, yes. I did do that. Clark regrettably held me back.”

“And you didn’t use your kryptonite?”

“I was…not thinking clearly. I had become entirely focused on revenge. I instead attempted to drag him towards the Joker while screaming.”

“Please tell me Babs got a video of this.”

“You will have to ask Barbara this.”

“Alrighty, second question. Still want me in Arkham?”

“No, Jason. I don’t want you there anymore. I shouldn’t have wanted you there in the first place. I haven’t been a good father to you since you returned, and I’m sorry for it. I just want you home now. I…I just want my children to be happy. Hell, I’m even at peace with the killing just as long as I can be in your life again. I miss you, son, and I just wish I could go back and undo everything I did that hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Dad. I was, uh, kinda an asshole for a minute there. I don’t blame you for my death anymore. That was just Talia’s brainwashing talking. I can’t say everything’s forgiven but I miss you, too. I want to come home, Dad. All I’ve wanted since I got caught in Ethiopia was to come home,” Jason admitted as he tried not to cry. Bruce rose from his chair, walking over to Jason and wrapping him in a hug.

“Then do it, Jay. You’ll always be welcome here.” They sat in silence for a while before Jason got uncomfortable.

“Just one last thing. Why _did_ you bring Tim into this? Why’d ya take that risk?”

“Quite bold of you to assume I was given a choice in that matter.”

“I mean, you could have told the kid’s parents- alright, why are you making that face?”

“I am not making a face,” said Bruce, who was definitely making a face.

“What the fuck was up with his parents?”

“They left him alone in Gotham for months on end while they traveled the world. They didn’t even know he’d been sneaking out since he was practically a baby to trail Dick and I around Gotham. I cannot forgive them for the way they treated him. He was _malnourished_ , Jay. Just this tiny little kid who showed up on my doorstep telling me he knew my secrets and he wanted to help me and not taking no for an answer, and he just casually mentioned that his parents were never home. What the hell was I supposed to do but take him in? And you know what he’s like- I couldn’t convince him to stay out of the vigilante game. All I could do was train him and pray that it- that he wouldn’t die.”

“Ay Dios Mio,” Jason said, “That explains a lot about the kid. And about some of the things he’s said to me.” Bruce stiffened.

“What did Tim say to you?”

“He doesn’t feel like a real member of the family.” Bruce paled.

“ _Shit_. I was already going to talk with him but now I really need to talk to him.” At that moment, an alarm sounded from Bruce’s computer. He dashed over to it.

“What’s going on, Dad?”

“The contamination shielding on the Med Bay was activated. Cave, now.” They took off down the secret passage.

* * *

Dick made his way to the Cave and found Damian curled up around a sleeping Tim.

“Alright, Dames, time for bed. I need to talk to Timmy.”

“No,” Damian growled. He carefully extricated himself from Tim and stood. His stance was defensive.

 _Alright, the fuck?_ Dick thought.

“You need sleep. I’ve been letting it go these past couple days because we were all worried, but you need to sleep in your own room and I need to talk to Tim alone,” Dick said with a gentle smile. If anything, Damian got tenser.

“I will not permit this,” He hissed. Dick sighed and stepped towards Damian to pick him up.

Before Dick could blink, there was a knife buried in his gut and he was being dragged to the outside of the Med Bay. Damian dumped him on the ground before dashing back in and pressing the contamination lock button, effectively sealing the room from the inside.

A minute later, Bruce and Jason charged into the Cave.

“Nightwing, report,” Bruce barked, kneeling beside him to assess damages. Jason looked around for enemies.

“Damian stabbed me,” Dick said with disbelief, “He actually fucking stabbed me.”

“What? What’d you do?” Jason asked.

“What makes you think I did anything?”

“Boys, stop fighting. Dick needs medical attention.”

“Well, thank god we have a Med-Bay- oh, wait. Dick pissed shorty off and we’re locked out.”

“Alfred!” Bruce yelled. Alfred appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Yes, Master Bruce?”

“Dick got stabbed. Can you take care of it?” Alfred descended.

“Of course, Master Bruce. Come, Master Dick, let’s get you fixed up.” He lifted Dick off the floor and they began heading up to the infirmary Alfred had set up on the first floor of the Manor.

“Alfie, Damian stabbed me,” Dick whined.

“How terrible, Master Dick.”

Jason and Bruce turned to each other.

“Do you want to talk to the murder toddler or should I?” Jason asked.

“I’ll talk to Damian,” Bruce grumbled as he stalked over to the intercom.

“Damian, get out here. I’m not mad, I just want to understand what happened.”

Damian stalked out of Tim’s room and slammed on the intercom. The kid looked tense and angry.

“Grayson knows what he has done. Ask him.”

“Will you let me in, son?” Damian hesitated for a second.

“No, I will not.”

“Why?”

“I do not trust you, Father,” Damian said, “I will handle Tim until he is healthier. Then I might grant you access to him.”

“Am I allowed in, little leaguer?” Jason asked.

“Perhaps tomorrow. Tim is sleeping now.”

“Alright, Dames. Try to get some sleep, too.”

“I will. Thank you, Todd.” And with that, Damian fled back to Tim’s room.

“Is Damian protecting Tim from…us?” Bruce asked. Jason nodded.

“I think he is. I’ll talk to him in the morning, okay? Damian can handle Tim for the night.”

* * *

Tim woke up in the morning to see Damian wrapped around his side. He smiled to himself, holding as still as possible to avoid waking the younger boy up. He waited for about 20 minutes until Damian awoke on his own.

The kid stretched his arms out like a cat as his eyes fluttered open and he yawned. He curled up closer to Tim.

“Good morning, Damian. Did you sleep alright?”

“I slept in a satisfactory manner. How was your rest?”

“Better than it’s been in a while. Let’s call Alfred, get some breakfast down here.”

Damian tensed up.

“That will unfortunately not be possible.”

“What? Why? Is Alfred okay?”

“Pennyworth is fine. A…situation has arisen with Grayson.”

“Is Dick okay?”

“He should be. I did not stab him in a particularly lethal area.”

“You stabbed Dick? Why the fuck would you do that?”

“He was attempting to get you alone, something which I could not allow.”

Tim sighed and rubbed his temple with his uninjured hand.

“And why is that?”

“You do not recall?”

“Damian, I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“When you were dosed with fear gas you underwent a serious nightmare during which you were screaming for Grayson to cease his actions. You were struggling as well. Obviously, Grayson has harmed you in some way and therefore cannot be trusted.” Damian was shaking with rage.  

“Oh, Damian, no. No, no, no. You didn’t stab him over that. _Please_ tell me you didn’t stab him over that.” Damian remained silent.

“Oh, shit. Why the fuck would you do that? Fuck fuck _fuck_.”

“I do not understand why you are so upset, Tim. Grayson had clearly caused you considerable trauma, the nature of which I cannot determine.”

_Bless him, the poor kid actually does look confused._

“Dames, you’re taking everything out of context. Dick wasn’t out of line, he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Those two things are not the same, Tim. If you will not tell me what happened with Grayson, I will be forced to extrapolate from given facts. And I do not like what I have extrapolated,” Damian was practically growling.

“After Bruce ‘died’ and Dick gave Robin to you,” Tim admitted, “Dick wasn’t entirely positive that I was sane. So he attempted to have me sent to Arkham.”

“He did _what_?” Damian shrieked.

“It’s fine, Damian. I was acting a little crazy.”

“That does not excuse him trying to imprison you with literal supervillains!” Damian leapt off the bed and made a beeline for the door. At the last second, Tim grabbed his wrist and yanked him back.

“Where are you going?”

“Grayson must be taught the error of his ways!” The boy yelled, trying to wiggle free from Tim’s grasp. Tim hauled him back on to the bed and wrapped him in a hug to keep him from leaving. Damian continued to struggle.

“Calm down, Dames. It’s fine.”

“It is most decidedly not fine, you self-deprecating moron!”

“Would you please stop fighting me?”

“I will stop fighting you when you release me and allow me to confront Grayson.”

“All right, calm down you tiny, homicidal little Hufflepuff. If I let you go after Dick now you’re going to kill him and then you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your life. So just relax for a bit, okay?” Damian stopped struggling.

“I was not going to injure Grayson,” he grumbled in a way that meant he totally was. Tim laughed.

“Sure you weren’t, Dames. Sure you weren’t.”

“I really wasn’t,” the boy insisted.

“I believe you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you. Because I know you and I know your automatic way of defending someone else is to attack the person who hurt them.” Damian ducked his head in shame.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Dames. It’s good that you want to defend people. It’s just that you need to work on your impulse control a little bit. Thinking before you act and all that jazz. But I get why you’re like this. You were raised to be a weapon, Dames, and you’ve only just now been given the opportunity to think for yourself. You’re still in a transitory period, so you’ve made some choices you’re not happy with. So have I. So has every other member of your-” Damian shot him a sharp look- “okay, fine, _our_ family. But it’s okay, Dames. Making bad decisions rooted in our trauma is part of the human experience. The important thing is that you learn from your mistakes and try to change. And you have. I mean, you went from trying to kill me to trying to forcibly recruit me back into the family. That’s huge! Right?”

“I guess that’s good advice,” Damian muttered, “You might consider taking it.” Tim affectionately whacked him over the head.

“Shut up, kid.”

They sat in quiet for a while before there was a crackle over the com system.

“Alright, you little shit,” Jason said, “Let me in. I brought breakfast.”

* * *

Jason was actually surprised when Damian made his way to the med bay doors. Of course, the kid made sure to look around the entire cave before opening the door.

“Todd,” he greeted.

“Wassup, demon baby? Brought you and Timmy some food. Alfred made it.”

“That is tolerable. Your presence for the consumption of this food is unnecessary.”

“Nope, I’m only giving you the food if you let me in.”

“Let him in, Damian!” Tim yelled.

“Do not strain your voice, Tim,” Damian yelled back before turning back to Jason, “I suppose I must allow you entrance. Please know that I can and will remove you if you harm him in any manner.”

“Eh, I’ve already died once. Do you worst, bat brat.” Damian glared as he stepped out of Jason’s way. He locked the door behind Jason and they made their way to Tim’s room.

Tim was lying on the bed, looking considerably more alive than the day before. Damian walked over to the bed and began fussing over Tim like an upset mother bird, helping the older boy prop himself up in bed. It was, quite frankly, adorable.

“Hey, Jason,” Tim said, “Did you bring me coffee?”

“I did. It’s decaf.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Tim whined.

“Alfred says it’s time for a caffeine detox. You’re showing addiction symptoms, Tim.”

“I have it under control.”

“Uh-huh. Sure ya do.”

“Fuck off, Jason,” Tim replied as he grabbed a croissant. Damian swatted it out of his hands and handed him a plate of eggs.

“Protein first,” the kid ordered, “the fruit, then maybe the croissant.” 

“You’re not my mother,” Tim grumbled as he began eating the eggs.

“Thank god for that,” Jason muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Damian said, eyes narrowed.

“Nothing.”

“It’s obviously _not_ nothing, Jason,” Tim replied, “Stop bullying Damian."

“I wasn’t bullying Damian! I was trying to say your mom sucked!”

“How’d you find out about my mother?” Tim asked, setting down his fork.

“Bruce,” Jason admitted. Tim looked murderous.

“He has no right to talk about my family to people.”

“What did Tim’s mother do?” Damian asked.

“Don’t tell him, Jason,” Tim warned.

“Tell me,” Damian demanded.

“How about you tell him, Tim?”

“No.”

“Tim, I must insist you tell me what your mother did,” the kid said.

“Nope. Not gonna.”

“Tell me.”

“Not happening.”

“Alright, then I’ll tell him,” Jason said.

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tim uttered as he stared Jason down.

“Try me, bitch. You need to fucking talk about your trauma with us.”

“Trauma?” Damian asked sharply.

“Jason, shut up,” Tim hissed.

“Tim, are you concealing trauma again?” Damian asked.

“Again?” Jason inquired.

“He concealed the fact that Grayson attempted to have him committed to Arkham.”

“Dick did _what_?” 

“Would you two just shut up?” Tim shouted, “Fucking hell, I’m so done with you two. I’ll tell him about my family when I’m fucking ready to, Jason. Is that enough for you?”

“I did not mean to upset you, Tim,” Damian said stiffly, “I was just concerned. I apologize for my behavior.”

“Yeah, same,” Jason muttered. Tim sighed and picked up the fork again.

“Thank you,” he said before beginning to eat again.

“So, demon spawn, Dickster survived your attack.”

“Pity,” Damian remarked as he stabbed at a piece of fruit.

“Damian,” Tim scolded.

“What I meant to say was ‘I am relieved to hear that,’” the kid snarked. Tim sighed.

“We’ll work on it,” Tim muttered.

“Bruce says he’ll only give you three days in here, which is Bruce-speak for ‘it’ll take me three days to figure out how to get in there,’” Jason remarked, “And Alfred’s demanded regular access to check on Tim. So, uh, good luck with that.”

“I accept this arrangement with Pennyworth,” Damian announced, “And Father may attempt to enter if he so pleases. That does not ensure his success. Grayson, however, may not enter and may not attempt to enter.”

“Or what?” Jason asked to be a contrary bitch.

“Or I will stab him again. This time in the heart.”

“Damian,” Tim warned.

“I mean I will give him a hug,” Damian said with the air of a middle-aged white woman responding to someone who had suggested she be kind to retail workers. Tim sighed again.

“Can you at least hold off on killing him until I’m vaguely recovered and also in San Francisco? Because I don’t want to take the blame for this. Jason, do you want to take the blame for this?”

“No, not particularly.”

“Thank you. So, Damian, the important thing to take from this conversation is that you should time your murders well.” Damian looked confused.

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to kill people,” he said.

“Well, that would be the ideal scenario,” Tim admitted as he accepted a small bowl of fruit from Jason, “But unfortunately for us, I genuinely can’t think of the last time we wound up in an ideal scenario. So, I’ve decided that while I prefer that no one in our family engage in homicidal behavior, I’ve accepted that some of you inevitably will and I just have to be at peace with that.”

“Weirdly enough, that’s the stance Bruce has taken.” Tim dropped his fork.

“I’m sorry, Jason, did you just say Bruce is _okay with murder now_? Bruce Wayne. Batman. We’re talking about the same guy here.”

“Yup, I couldn’t believe it either. To be honest, I still don’t fully believe it. But hey, I’m not going to complain about him making an effort to reach out to us,” Jason replied with a shrug that he desperately hoped was disguising his internal conflict.

“Bruce accepting murder,” Tim muttered in fascination, “What’s next, Clark being morally grey? Diana being a bad person? Me getting rest?”

“You getting rest is next,” Damian told him. Tim made a face.

“Well, this is fucking weird,” Jason remarked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Here we go again,” Tim muttered.

“Just that I never honestly expected to see you two getting along.”

“You and I get along just fine, Jason. And you tried to kill me, too,” Tim said before his expression changed to one of concern, “I hope that trying to kill me doesn’t turn into a family tradition. That would suck ass.”

“I will not permit it becoming tradition,” Damian snarled. Tim affectionately ruffled his hair.

“Thanks, Dames.”

“Wow, trauma’s a great bonding experience,” Jason said, “You guys should get kidnapped more often.”

“Oh, fuck off and die again, Jason.”

“And that’s my cue to leave. Later, boys. Enjoy disappointing Dad!” 

* * *

“Well, Dickie, you done fucked up,” Jason announced cheerfully as he banged open the door to Dick’s bedroom.

“Go away, Jason, I’m sulking,” a pile of blankets and pillows whined from the bed. Jason jumped on to the bed, landing half on top of Dick. The older boy struggled for a minute before his face emerged from the tangle of blankets.

“What do you want?” Dick asked. He looked absolutely miserable.

“I’ve just returned from visiting our little baby brothers, and you will not _believe_ what’s going on. I found out the entire reason Damian hates you now!” Dick shot up to a sitting position.

“What? Tell me.”

“Well, a little birdy told me that you tried to have Tim committed to Arkham. And this little birdy is a bit stab-happy and not very pleased with you about this.”

“Oh, god,” Dick said as the color drained from his face, “I really did fuck up.”

“Yeah, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t! Bruce was dead, you were off your rocker again, I was trying to rein in Damian and be Batman. Tim just kept going on and on about how Bruce was really alive and it was scaring me. I could barely keep everyone else under control and I couldn’t see any way to keep everyone afloat and help Tim by myself. I know I shouldn’t have done it and I really fucking wish I hadn’t, but I did and I just have to live with that mistake.”

“You need to talk to Tim about this.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried? I’ve tried to talk to him for years. Every single fucking time I try to bring it up and talk to him, try to make it better, it just gets worse. I was going to talk to him last night- address everything, apologize, make sure that he knows that none of what I’ve done is his fault- and then Damian stabbed me.”

“And being stabbed does tend to put a damper on one’s plans.”

“I’m not even upset about the stabbing. He’s defending Tim from me and he’s right to do it. I’m just upset that Tim needs to be defended from me in the first place.” Jason just patted Dick awkwardly on the shoulder.

“That’s rough, buddy.”

“Oh, really, Jason? We’re making a meme out of my pain and suffering? Really?”

“A meme a day keeps the depression away,” Jason replied with the hubris of a college student three hours before the deadline of an assignment they hadn’t begun. Dick snorted.

“Then explain Tim.”

“Timmy’s an outlier and shouldn’t be counted.” 

“Fair enough,” Dick conceded, “God, Jason, what the fuck do I _do_ about this?”

“Bruce and I will wear Damian down enough to distract him from Tim and then you can talk to the depressed little bastard. Make him less depressed. Shove some serotonin down his throat. I don’t know how these things work.”

“Good, because that is very much not how depression works.”

“Well, you know what Dick? I was too busy being possessed by rage to develop depression. I should start a website. Stop depression. Be mad instead.”

“Please don’t do that.”

“I’m doing it.”

“Jason, that’s not how any of this works.”

“As Freddie Mercury once said, don’t stop me now. Actually, he said that many times. Man, now I wish I’d stayed dead. I could have met Freddie Mercury.”

“Oh my god, Jason.”

“What? He’s an iconic bisexual. _I’m_ an iconic bisexual. We’re both brown. We both like cats. We’d get along great.”

“He had a fashion sense.”

“Go eat a bag of glass dildos, _Discowing_.”

“Okay, fuck you-”

“Boys, boys,” Bruce said from the doorway, “You both have no fashion sense to speak of. Calm down.”

“Rude, Dad,” Jason replied. Bruce was smiling at them.

“Bold words for a guy who runs around in a spandex bat costume,” Dick replied. Bruce looked affronted.

“It’s a meaningful reference, just like Robin was!”

“Robin was my childhood nickname. What the fuck is a bat a meaningful reference to?”

“Conquering your fears! I was terrified of bats when I was a child, so I named myself after them to prove that I was the master of myself!”

“Oh my god, your parents got shot in front of you and your greatest fear was fucking _bats_?” Jason yelled. Bruce looked distinctly uncomfortable.

“I fell down an abandoned well when I was a young lad and was swarmed by them.”

“But still! You gotta admit that’s a little whack, Dad!”

“I mean, you named yourself after your own murderer, Jason.”

“Less weird than becoming a furry! Also, you named yourself after a Kryptonian legend and I’m pretty sure that’s cultural appropriation, so you can’t judge me.”

“Clark gave me that name, you dumbass!”

“How’d you convince him to do that, suck his dick?”

“What? Gross, no. That’s Bruce’s job.”

“What?” Said Bruce, who was now very confused.

“Actually, Dick, now that I think about it, you shouldn’t even have the name Nightwing. You should be something else. Either Bruce, Tim, or Damian should have that name.”

“What? Why?”

“Because Nightwing was in love with Flamebird and they’re the family members in love with Kryptonians.”

“Holy shit, you’re right.”

“I am not in love with Clark,” Bruce insisted.

“It’s okay, Bruce, we accept you for who you are,” Dick said solemnly.

“Yeah, and we support you no matter what.”

“Don’t give me the coming out speech,” their dad grumbled, “I came out years ago.”

“And what was Alfred’s response?” Jason was genuinely curious.

“He gave me a look and said, ‘I will not do you the favor of pretending to be shocked, Master Bruce.’ This wasn’t great for my anxiety.”

“Which was entirely needless, seeing as I myself am bisexual and therefore was not going to judge you, Master Bruce.”

“I know, Alf. I just get nervous.”

“Perhaps that is why you have not slept with Clark Kent yet,” Alfred replied. Bruce turned bright red.

“I don’t ha-”

“Have a crush on Clark Kent? Master Bruce, I may be old, but my eyes are functioning yet.”

“Oh, shit, Alfredo! You just snatched his wig so hard he’s balding!” Jason cried.

“Thank you, Master Jason. Did Masters Tim and Damian accept their breakfast?”

“Yep! And they ate it.”

“Marvellous. I’ll be going to check on them after this. Master Bruce, I thought you would like to know that the Justice League has returned to Earth. Master Dick, Master Wally and Mistress Barbara have arrived to see you. Master Jason, Master Roy has been messaging you. I would ask that you do not leave the Manor until after you and I have spoken.”

“Sounds good, Alf. See you after you’re done with Tim!” Jason replied.

“Of course, Master Jason,” the butler replied before walking off. Dick looked like he was about to have a panic attack. Bruce walked over and sat on the bed with them. He threw an arm around Dick and drew him into an awkward half-hug.

“You don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to, chum.”

“I do, B, I’m just…”

“Nervous?” Their dad offered with a smile. Dick nodded. Jason awkwardly crawled over to them and started giving Dick a half-hug as well.

“It’ll be alright, Dickster. And even if it isn’t, Dad and I will beat their asses up.”

“Beating up a woman in a wheelchair is mean, Jase.”

“But it’s Babs. She’s terrifying and it doesn’t matter if we beat her up, we’re going to lose the fight. But we’ll do it for you,” Jason replied. Dick laughed and buried his face in Bruce’s shoulder.

“Okay, fuck off. I’m gonna talk to them.”

“Good luck, chum,” Bruce said. He pressed a gentle kiss to Dick’s forehead before rising from the bed and leaving.

“Bye, bitch,” Jason said as he awkwardly patted Dick on the back before running away.

* * *

Wally and Babs were sitting in the Purple Themed Drawing RoomTM Thomas Wayne had insisted upon. Dick walked in and promptly climbed on the back of a wingback chair like a distressed cat. They stared at him.

“Dick, would you mind sitting like a normal person?” Babs asked.

“I’m comfortable,” he replied.

“Are you sure about that?” Wally asked, eyeing him like Dick was a particularly expensive vase that was teetering on the edge of shattering.

“Of course,” Dick replied, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Alrighty then,” Wally muttered, “This is off to a great start.”

“Dick, we need to address the invitation I made to you,” Babs said. Dick nodded violently, almost sending himself flying.

“Yes, yes, of course we do. Okay.”

“Dick, are you sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m a bit disturbed,” Dick replied, “and possibly not feeling the aster.”

“Candy-gram, you can come down from there. We’re not going to hurt you,” Babs asked in the tone of someone talking to a toddler.

“I’m perfectly comfortable here, Babsy, and definitely not terrified.”

“Look, Babs,” Wally exclaimed, pointing at Dick, “You took a perfectly good acrobat and you gave him anxiety.”

“Oh, please. He had anxiety _years_ before I ever got my hands on him. Now listen up Dick, you dumb bitch, we’re here to formally invite you to join our relationship, not murder you.” If possible, Dick began teetering even more rapidly.

“You guys really want me to join you? You weren’t just joking?” He asked. Wally dashed over and steadied him.

“Yeah, babe, we do. You don’t have to say yes, by the way. We understand.”

“I would have to be dumber than I already am to say no to you two, Walls,” Dick replied as he melodramatically collapsed into Wally’s arms. Wally bridal carried him over to where Babs was and sat down on the couch. Babs rolled over so the two of them were framing Dick, who was looking a bit dazed.

“Should I kiss him first or do you want to?” She asked. Wally shrugged.

“Either’s good with me. Dick?”

“How am I supposed to choose?” He whined.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Babs suggested. They quickly did so. Wally won.

“Hell yeah,” he said as he ducked his head down to kiss Dick. Dick kissed him back violently, gently scraping Wally’s tongue with his teeth as their lips collided against each other. After a few seconds, they separated and Dick got a few breaths in before Babs was leaning down for her turn. He kissed her back with the same passion and by the time she pulled back he was half delirious from joy and pleasure.

“Still not feeling the aster, babe?” Wally asked with a smile on his face and the sun in his voice.

“Oh, I’m feeling the aster,” he replied, “and I’m pretty concerted with this result.”

“Glad to hear it, love,” Babs told him as she brushed his hair out of his eyes, “Now, you want to tell us how you got stabbed?” Dick sighed, burying his face in Wally’s abdomen.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he mumbled.

“Fair enough, but you’ll have to eventually.”

“Okay,” he grumbled as Wally ran his fingers through his hair, “but right now I just wanna sleep.”

“Say no more,” Wally said. He ran Dick upstairs and deposited him in bed before leaving and returning with Babs a split second later. He peeled off his shoes before joining them himself. Dick curled up between his two exes- his two new significant others, now- and fell asleep.

* * *

Alfred Pennyworth had never intended to love Bruce Wayne. He had only taken the job as the Wayne family butler to appease his dead father. It was supposed to be a temporary situation, but the moment the young master had come home from school bruised and bloody, chin held up with the rage of someone whose pride had taken a more severe licking than their body had, he knew he was stuck there. The boy had found his way into Alfred’s heart, and it only got worse after the Wayne’s were killed. There was no denying it; he had come to think of Bruce as his son. He would never have admitted it to the child; he couldn’t bring himself to try and replace Thomas Wayne.

But then Bruce had run off without a word, and he’d assumed the worst (and who could blame him? The AIDs crisis was upon them, and his young, queer son was nowhere to be found.). Of course, the boy had then shown up injured four years later saying that he was going to rip the crime out of Gotham, because Alfred couldn’t have an easy child who behaved himself and _stayed in his goddamn lane_.

And then Dick had arrived. And then Jason. And then Jason had died, and Tim had shown up on their doorstep and straight up demanded to be adopted. And then the children had just kept coming after that, and Alfred wasn’t surprised anymore. He just accepted every one of his _twenty thousand fucking grandchildren, really Master Bruce,_ with only moderate complaints that were less related to the existence of said children and more related to their general wellbeing and actions.

But above all, his biggest complaint was that his grandchildren had all flown the nest too soon for his liking. And after the lethal combination of Bruce’s death, Dick’s rejection, and Damian’s, well, _everything_ had chased out Tim, Alfred had given up on his hopes of a unified family living happily in the Manor ever again.

Watching Damian sleep soundly curled defensively around Tim had rekindled that hope.

He was hesitant to disturb his boys, but it had to be done, so he knocked softly on the door. Tim looked up from the book he was reading and smiled up at him.

“Hey, Alfred.”

“Hello, Master Tim. I need to treat your injuries. After all, they require more care to ensure that you do not contract an infection seeing as you apparently no longer have a spleen.” The boy at least had the decency to look ashamed.

“Sorry, Alfred.”

“Hmph. You’re just like your father, hiding injuries from me. The two of you should both be ashamed of yourselves. Why are you frowning?”

“Jack hid injuries from you?” Tim asked, sounding confused. Alfred let out a scandalized gasp.

“Why on earth would I ever refer to that man as your father? Master Timothy, I was speaking about Master Bruce!” Tim frowned further.

“But…Bruce isn’t my father?”

“ _Master Timothy_ ,” Alfred shrieked, “Never, in all my years, I have I heard such a blatantly false statement. Dear God in heaven, who in the hell put such an idea in your head?”

“Uh…the truth did?” Alfred let out a noise of frustration and rage the likes of which he had never released before. He marched over to the intercom.

“Master Bruce, see yourself down to the med bay immediately. Your son has foolishly convinced himself of some nonsensical storyline and you need to put a stop to this.”

Bruce didn’t respond, but Alfred knew he was on his way.

“Et Tu, Pennyworth?” Damian said.

“Silence, Master Damian. You will be coming with me. You have chores to attend to.”

“I’m not leaving Tim.”

“Master Tim will be alright. He and your father need to have a conversation. He will not be alone.”

“Fine,” Damian grumbled, “But I’m not pleased with this situation, Pennyworth.”

“Neither am I, Master Damian,” their grandfather said through gritted teeth, “neither am I.”

* * *

Bruce ran down to the med bay as fast as he could and arrived to see Alfred wrestling a squirming Damian up the stairs to the Manor.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

“Master Timothy is laboring under the delusion that he is not your son. Correct this immediately,” Alfred snapped as he got the ten-year-old through the door. Bruce nodded and continued on.

Tim was sitting up in his bed, looking incredibly confused.

“Hey, Tim,” Bruce asked gently, “May I come in?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Bruce entered at sat in the chair by Tim’s bedside.

“So, Alfred just told me something interesting.” Tim ducked his head, balling his fists in the bedsheets.

“He’s overreacting,” the boy muttered.

“Well, you’re not,” Tim responded. He looked like a bird caught in the rain.

“Explain your logic to me.”

“What?”

“Prove your point. Tell me how I’m not your dad.”

“Well, you never adopted me.”

“Only because you didn’t seem to want me to. Fucking hell, Tim, you invented an uncle to drive me away from it. I would have adopted you in a goddamn heartbeat if it wasn’t for the fact that you seemed so goddamn resistant to the idea. Hell, I’ll still adopt you, Tim, just say the word. I’ve had the paperwork sitting in a filing cabinet for years.”

Tim stared at Bruce, eyes wide.

“When did you fill that out?” He whispered.

“Long before your parents ever died. I was waiting for the right time to bring it up and it just…never happened. And I never needed the paperwork to know you were my son. But if I’d known how much it meant to you, kid, I would have had it filed in seconds.”

“Then why don’t you treat me like you do the others? You’re so much harder on me than you are on them.” Bruce sighed.

“And I’m sorry for that, Tim. To be completely blunt, I hold you to a higher standard than I do the others because I have more faith in you than I do in them. You’ve consistently impressed me throughout all the time we’ve worked together. You’ve been a better CEO of Wayne Enterprises than I’ve ever been. The only reason I left clues behind while I was lost in the timestream is because I knew you would be looking for me- because you were the only one I trusted would notice that something about my death was wrong. I’m only so hard on you because I know how capable you are, and I want to see you reach your fullest potential- a potential which far exceeds my own. I know it’s not fair to you, and I’m sorry. As your father, I can and will do better for you. If you’ll let me.” The last part of the speech came out a little rough as Bruce tried to choke back some tears threatening to escape. Tim was stricken.

“Y-You really have that much faith in me?” He whispered, awestruck.

“Of course I do, son,” Bruce replied as he gathered his kid into a hug, “and I haven’t said this nearly enough, but I’m proud of you. You’ve done great, Tim. And I’m so proud of you for what you did with the Joker. It took a lot of courage to stand up to him like that, and while I find your sense of self-preservation incredibly lacking and we’re definitely having a talk about that, I’m proud of you for protecting Damian from him. I’m so proud of you, son. For everything you’ve done. For the person you’ve become.” Tim’s arms hesitantly snaked around him before wrapping tightly around Bruce’s torso. Bruce stroked his hair as the boy cried into Bruce’s shirt. After about half an hour, the kid had finally cried himself out.

“Bruce?” He croaked.

“Yeah, Tim?”

“Can we file that paperwork soon?” Bruce smiled down at him.

“Of course, son.”

* * *

Damian was not happy.

“Chillax, murder toddler. It’s all going to work out,” Jason said from where he was observing Damian clean up after Batcow.

“Father lacks the emotional intelligence to handle Tim’s delicate situation properly. Tim is fragile. Father will not take care in his wording to ensure that Tim is not upset.”

“Tim’s a coral reef,” Jason muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Reference. Anywho, you’re not giving Bruce enough credit. Wow, never thought I’d say that. Let’s take a moment to recognize this character development before DC changes the universe.”

“Todd, what the hell-” Damian said before being violently shushed by Jason.

“Shhh. Just bask in the character development.” They sat in silence for a minute before Jason relaxed.

“Alright, baby bat, what was I talking about? Ah, yes, Daddy Bat’s emotional intelligence. He’ll do fine with Timmy. He and I had a nice chat earlier and he was shockingly good at it. So have a little faith. Besides, he can’t fuck Tim up worse than his parents did!” Damian froze.

“This is the second time you have mentioned Tim’s parents failing him. What did they do?”

“Well, I don’t know the full story, just that they left him by himself often enough that he was able to sneak out every night to follow the vigilantes around Gotham when he was a little kid. He musta been tiny, ‘cuz he was following Dickie-bird around for a minute.” The manure fork Damian was holding was suddenly snapped in two.

“He doesn’t want to be alone,” the boy whispered, “That’s why he doesn’t want to be alone.” The kid took off, headed for the garage.

“Oi, where the hell do you think you’re going?” Jason yelled after him. He whipped around.

“No one who treats their children that way deserves to rest in peace,” he hissed before taking off again.

“Oh, fuck me up the ass with a marinara-coated spear,” Jason muttered to himself, “Now I have to go pry Dick out of his threesome to stop Damian from getting arrested.”

* * *

Dick woke up a few hours later, still nestled between his two significant others. He wrapped his arms tighter around Babs, who stirred a bit but continued to sleep.

The door banged open and Jason charged in the room.

“Ding-dong, Dick-bitch,” he sang, “Time to go save the demon spawn from himself.” He grabbed the covers of the bed and ripped them away, snatching Dick’s legs and hauling him out of the bed. He slung his brother over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and marched out of the room.

“What the hell, Jason? Put me down!”

“Nope, Damian’s run off to go desecrate Tim’s parents’ graves, so I looked up the New Jersey penal code and that can lead to three to five years in prison. And also, Alfred would be pissed if we didn’t at least try to stop him.”

“He went to _what_?” Dick shrieked. Jason tossed him into the passenger side of the brand-new Lamborghini Urus that Bruce had bought on a whim.

“I told him about what Tim’s parents did to him and the little fucker went ape shit. Now, I’m not opposed to some good, old-fashioned vandalism, but I think that I should be the one to commit it given that I can’t be charged with a crime since I’m still technically dead. Also, it would be nice of us to give Timmers a little warning beforehand.”

“Of course he snapped, Jay! He’s been defensive of Tim since their rescue. Telling him about someone hurting Tim was just adding fuel to the fire! Why in the _hell_ would you think that was a good idea?”

“I was trying to comfort the little fucker! Cut me some slack here!”

“How do you screw comforting up this badly?”

“Fuck off, it’s not like I’m brimming with experience. Now, where are Tim’s parents buried?”

“The Jewish cemetery, the one out by the airport.”

“Got it.” They drove as fast as they could. When they pulled into the parking lot, Damian’s bike was already there.

“Dios,” Jason muttered, “How’d the little fucker get here so quick?”

“Determination and rage,” Dick replied as he opened the car door, “Now c’mon, we gotta get to the grave.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“Duh, you dumbass, I went to Tim’s dad’s funeral. Now shut up and lock the Lambo.”

They arrived just in time to stop Damian from knocking over Janet Drake’s tombstone.

“Dami, no!” Dick shouted.

“Do not stop me, Grayson! I will punish these scum for their crimes against our family!” The boy shrieked as Dick grabbed him by the arms and tried to drag him off.

“Quit struggling, damn it! God, how’d you even find them?”

“It’s called findagrave.com, you peon,” the kid sneered.

“Now, Damian, as your legal advisor-”

“How are you qualified for that, Jay?”

“Go eat a bag of pocket pussies, Dick, I went to a criminal justice summer camp when I was thirteen. So, as I was saying, as Damian’s legal advisor, in the state of New Jersey desecration of a grave is third-degree criminal mischief and can result in 3-5 years in prison. You can also be charged with desecration of venerated objects and conspiracy to commit desecration. If charged as an adult, this could go on your permanent record. So my legal advice is that you should leave grave desecration to the professionals.” Both of Jason’s brothers stared at him.

“I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing as a professional grave desecrater,” Dick replied.

“Uh, yeah there is. Me.” Dick released Damian so he could rub his temples.

“Alright, Jay, I’ll bite. How are you a professional grave desecrater?”

“I desecrated my own grave,” he replied smugly, “And also that bitch Sheila’s. And maybe my dad’s. Point is, I’ve done this a lot.”

“Just get in the fucking car,” Dick said, “God, I’m so done with you and your revenge boner. Both of you. I can’t believe I got ripped out of bed to stop a revenge-fuelled grave desecration. Why is this my life? I was supposed to be a famous acrobat. Travel the world. Have a happy life. Instead, I’m standing in a graveyard at ten am trying to stop my baby brothers from destroying my other baby brother’s parents’ grave. What did I do to deserve this? I do my best to be a good person. I donate to charity. I’m hard working. I respect women. Why has the universe done this to me?”

“Biphobia,” Jason said wisely.

“Get in the fucking Lambo, smart ass. You too, Damian.”

“But what about my vehicle, Grayson?”

“Fine. Jay, you take his bike. Just straight back to the manor, no fucking around. Damian, you’re with me. We’re having a peaceful conversation about you stabbing me.”

* * *

When they got in the car, Dick rolled the window down.

“Is that really necessary?” Damian whined.

“Yes. Car rides breed tension and rolling down the window reduces it.”

“I’m sorry,” Damian blurted, “I misunderstood the situation and reacted based on my understanding.”

“Oh, okay then. That’s fine.”

“Seriously? You’re not mad?”

“Well, I’m a little miffed about getting stabbed, but you stabbed me in the least lethal place and you were defending Tim! I’m so happy the two of you are getting along now. I do have just one question. What was the misunderstanding?” Damian looked uncomfortable.

“When Tim was dosed with fear toxin, he began pleading for you to desist in a course of action. Tim has since explained to me that the situation was very different than my perception of it and that he was thinking of the time you attempted to have him sent to Arkham.”

“Dami,” Dick whispered, “What did you think I did?”

“Based on what he was saying, I had presumed that you… _assaulted_ him.”

Dick swerved suddenly, pulling them off the road and putting the car in park. He was pale and shaking, eyes gone wide. His hands were tight on the wheel.

“Grayson?” Damian asked, concerned. He unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward. He was reaching a hand out to touch Dick’s shoulder when the other boy turned around. He was crying.

“Dami, did you really think I was capable of that?” He whimpered. Damian hesitated before replying.

“I did not know what to think, Grayson. I did not want to believe it, but Tim does not like to talk about his issues and he was genuinely distressed. Additionally, I do not have the best track record in regard to my family being trustworthy. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Dami, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t,” Dick was crying heavily now. Damian awkwardly shifted to hugging Dick and soothing him, the way Dick had done to him so many times.

“What’s wrong, Grayson?”

“I wouldn’t do that, Dami. Not…not after what happened to me.”

Damian’s blood ran cold.

“You were assaulted.”

Dick nodded.

“Give me a name, Grayson,” Damian growled, “This will not stand.”

“It’s o-”

“Do not say it’s okay, Dick! I’m sick of everyone in our family belittling their own suffering. I want us to talk. I want us to acknowledge our issues. I don’t want to you all to suffer in silence anymore. _I_ don’t want to suffer in silence anymore. Please talk to me. I, no, _we_ don't think any less of you because you’ve been hurt.”

Dick raised his arms and tightly hugged Damian back.

“When did you get so smart, baby brother?” He croaked.

“Todd suggested I read a book on social interaction. So I did.”

“I’m proud of you, Dami. Now let’s get back before Bruce finds out about this little adventure, okay?”

“Only if you promise to speak with Father about what happened to you.” Dick winced.

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Nonsense, Grayson. Todd informs me that Father has become much more logical in regard to emotional manners as of late. You will speak with him.” Dick sighed.

“Okay, Dami. I will.”

* * *

Back in the Cave, Bruce was calling the Justice League. Dinah picked up.

“Batman,” she greeted, “How’re you doing?”

“Fine, thank you. I’m just letting you all know the kids and I’ll be missing for a few weeks while we recuperate. And after that, I’d like to schedule family and individual therapy sessions with you for everyone, if that’s doable.” She smiled back at him.

“Of course. I’ve already been seeing Robin for the past six months, so it’s just a matter of fitting the rest of you in.”

“Robin’s been going to therapy?”

“Yes. He told me he thought ‘therapy will be able to supply me with skills conducive to doing well in the environment I am currently in rather than the environment I have been in previously.’ He’s one of my best patients.”

“That does sound like him,” Bruce muttered before clearing his throat, “Well, thank you, Black Canary, we will be in touch as to scheduling later.”

“Sounds good. Tell the kiddos I say hi!”

“I will,” Bruce replied, shutting off the monitor just as Hal Jordan began to speak in the background.

“B?” Dick said from behind him. He turned to face his eldest son.

Dick looked terrified, drawn into himself and shaking almost imperceptibly. Bruce immediately rushed over to the boy and gently touched his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, chum?”

“We need to talk, B. I’ve been hiding something.”

“Okay, Dick. How about we go sit on the couch? This seems like too serious of a conversation to have standing up.” Dick nodded, so Bruce gently guided him over to one of the couches in the cave and sat down next to him. They sat in silence while Dick gathered his thoughts.

“I haven’t wanted to talk about this,” he said at last, “Not because I didn’t think I could bring this to you, but because I wanted to forget it ever happened. Do you remember Blockbuster?”

“The one who launched a personal campaign to destroy your life? I do. And I don’t blame you for his death, Dick, if that’s what’s eating you.”

“Thanks, Bruce, but that’s not it. It’s what happened after. Tarantula, she-she…” Dick curled up into himself further, pulling his legs into his chest. Bruce put his hand on Dick’s shoulder to ground him.

“Deep breaths, chum. Deep breaths.” Dick leaned into the touch but stayed tense.

“She raped me.”

Bruce froze. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears. Rage and sorrow were at war in his mind, but sorrow won out.

“Oh, Dick,” He said, “I’m so sorry that happened to you. Can I hug you?” Dick tackled him, wrapping himself tightly around his father. Bruce tentatively hugged him back as he felt Dick’s tears start to soak his shoulder.

“I’m glad you told me, Dick, because now I can help you through this. Thank you for trusting me.” Dick squeezed him even tighter as Bruce gently rubbed his back, hoping to calm Dick down.

* * *

Meanwhile, Damian was stalking up the stairs to Tim’s room, as Alfred and Bruce had moved him while the others were gone.

“Tim, I have been forced to desist on my mission of vengeance,” he announced as he slammed open the door. Tim looked up from his computer screen with a raised eyebrow.

“Do I even want to know?”

“Todd and Grayson disallowed me from desecrating your parents’ graves,” the boy replied as he clambered on to the bed with a huff.

“…say again?”

“Tt. I was attempting to desecrate your parents’ graves in recompense for their ill-treatment of you when I was forced by the two most useless of us to stop.” Tim blinked.

“Wow. You, uh, really hate my parents, don’t you?”

“Are- Tim- you- ugh. You’re insufferable.”

“…Okay?”

“Your continual refusal to acknowledge your own suffering is endlessly frustrating.”

“So you’ve told me.”

“Your parents were despicable,” Damian ranted, “Leaving a child alone by himself for lengthy periods of time is a crime and they should not have gotten away with it.”

“I hate to break it to you, Dames, but I’m pretty sure Bruce letting us fight crime is illegal too.”

“That is beside the point, Tim! Why are you so insistent on diminishing your experiences?” Tim shifted uncomfortably.

“Well, I could have had it worse.” Damian let out a scream of frustration.

“’Could have had it worse’ does not mean good or acceptable, Tim.”

“…I guess…”

“You guess? You guess? As soon as you can move I am sending you to see my therapist.”

“You have a therapist?”

“Of course I have a therapist,” Damian said indignantly, “She is assisting me in adjusting to my new environment with valuable skills. It is an admirable pursuit.”

“No, I wasn’t shaming you. I think it’s great that you’re going to therapy. I’m proud of you, Dames.”

“Thank you, Tim- I see what you’re doing here. Do not attempt to distract me from your problems.”

“Aww, c’mon, Dames,” Tim whined, “I’m in a lot of pain and I don’t want to talk about this right now. Can we please drop it for now? I just want to watch Hawaii Five-O and wait for my next round of meds.”

“Alright,” Damian grumbled. Tim lifted the covers in response and the younger boy crawled underneath them.

* * *

Jason hesitated before entering the kitchen.

“C’mon,” he whispered to himself, “Nothing to fear here, just Alfie. Oh, Dios, he’s terrifying. Oh no. I fucked up.”

“Master Jason?” Alfred said from behind him.

“Shit!” Jason yelped.

“Really, Master Jason?”

“Sorry, Alfie,” he muttered.

“It’s no trouble. Now, are you going to stand here in limbo for all eternity or are you going to come help me with dinner?” He didn’t bother to respond, just followed the older man into the kitchen. The smell of short ribs cooking in a crock pot filled the air.

Alfred made his way over to the kitchen counter where he kept the cookbooks.

Jason could still remember when he was first introduced to the Pennyworth cookbooks. It was his first birthday at the Manor, and Alfred had presented him with a large, leather-bound notebook. The cover was embossed with a tree.

“Thanks, Alf,” he’d said, a bit confused.

“Come with me, Master Jason.” He’d followed Alfred down to the kitchen, where the man had pulled out the two heavy, leather-bound notebooks he kept there. He set one in front of Jason.

“This was my father’s recipe book, where he recorded every recipe he ever made. And this-” he waved the book he was holding in the air- “is mine. And this one-” he tapped the one in Jason’s arms- “is yours.”

“But I don’t know how to cook,” Jason protested.

“I know, lad. I’m offering to teach you.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Hell yeah!” He whooped, charging at Alfred and almost knocking him down with the force of his hug. Alfred patted him on the back before stepping back and setting his hands on Jason’s shoulders.

“I’d like to teach you the first recipe any Pennyworth learns.”

“What’s that, Alf?”

“Irish soda bread, Master Jason.”

“Master Jason?” Alfred asked, startling Jason back to the present.

“Sorry, Alf. What was it you wanted me to do?”

Alfred handed him that same notebook he’d given him all those years ago.

“First recipe,” he said simply. Jason accepted it with shaking hands.

“You kept it,” he whispered, awestruck. Alfred put his hand on Jason’s cheek.

“Of course I did, Jason. You’re my grandson. I wasn’t about to erase you from existence because you died.”

“Alf…I’m sorry.” Against Jason’s will, tears started to burn at the edges of his eyes.

“Now what exactly do you have to apologize for, Master Jason?”

“I ran away. The Joker only got me because I ran away,” he mumbled. Alfred steered him over the kitchen table and sat him down.

“Correct me if I’ve misinterpreted your words. You are apologizing to me for running away- a perfectly normal teenage action- to find your birth mother, who proceeded to betray you to a supervillain who murdered you, and you have apparently decided that all of this is your fault.”

“Well, when you put it that way it sounds stupid.”

“That’s because it is, Master Jason,” Alfred said, “You’re blaming yourself for something out of your control. You know, your father blamed himself for your death for years. Your brother did as well. As did I. But eventually we must come to realize that the blame is more to do with those who directly took the action of killing you. They chose to hurt you. You did nothing wrong.”

“I mean, I’ve killed people.”

“So have I. Does that make me a terrible person?”

“No, but that’s different. You killed people in a war. You didn’t have a choice.”

“I had a choice in whether or not I killed the Joker, and yet he is still dead. And I think if you truly examine your past actions, Master Jason, you will find that your decision-making abilities had been severely inhibited by both the Lazarus Pit and Talia’s manipulations. While you must accept that you committed those misdeeds, you cannot hold yourself fully responsible for them.”

“I guess,” Jason muttered. Alfred let out a heavy sigh.

“I suppose that will have to do for now. Now, Master Jason, we should start dinner. I suspect that all this talk of emotions will make you and your siblings quite hungry.”

* * *

Cass crept into the Manor and up to Tim’s room without being seen. She carefully opened the door and slipped in.

A show was playing on Tim’s laptop, and the boy himself lay asleep in the bed. He was leaning against Damian, who was also asleep. Alfred (the cat) was curled up between their legs and Titus was asleep on the floor.

She smiled as she crept forward, carefully removing the laptop and placing on the nightstand. She gently rearranged the boys so they were lying down and covered with the blankets.

“Sleep well,” she whispered before slipping from the room again. She crept down the hallway towards her own room.

“Cass?” Barbara said. Cass turned to see the older girl and Wally West in the hallway.

“Hello,” she replied.

“Welcome back. Have you seen Dick around?” Wally asked. He was vibrating nervously.

“No.”

“Huh. Guess I’ll go look for him. See ya, babe. Cass,” Wally said, giving Barbara a quick kiss on the cheek before running off. Cass couldn’t think of anything to say, so she just stood there.

“Did you just get back?”

“Yes. Checked on Tim. Asleep. Damian, too.”

“That’s good. They need their rest. Where’re you headed?”

“Bed. Nap before dinner.”

“Great. Where’s Steph? Wasn’t she with you?”

“With Mom. Back for dinner.”

“I’ll tell Alfred. Sleep well, Cass.”

The girl nodded before fleeing the scene.

* * *

The door to the Manor banged open that evening.

“Guess who’s back in the house?” Stephanie Brown yelled as she walked in.

“Blondie!” Jason yelled as he rounded the corner, “Welcome the fuck back!” They fist-bumped.

“Silence yourselves,” Damian hissed from the top of the stairs, “You imbeciles will wake Tim.”

“As if. Once Tim passes out he’s impossible to wake up again. Trust me, I used to sleep with him.”

 Damian’s face scrunched up with distaste and he stalked off to complain to Alfred as they cackled.

Bruce and Dick came out of the BatCave exit. They both looked exhausted, but Dick gave Steph and Jason a tired smile when he saw them. Bruce, predictably, did not, greeting them with a stiff nod and a, “Welcome, Stephanie.”

“Hey, Bruce, what’s up? Where’s my ex-boyfriend?”

“Tim is recovering in his room.”

“How bad off is he that he’s actually staying put?”

“Bad,” Dick interjected, “he flatlined three times.”

“Three?” Jason exclaimed, “Shit, I thought it was just the once.”

“We turned the alarm off to keep Damian from panicking. Hey, Bruce, wait up!” Bruce had already begun walking off to dinner without them. He paused to allow them to catch up.

“Is Tim going to make it down for dinner?” Steph asked. Bruce nodded.

“I suspect so. Alfred sent out a message informing those who were not already planning on being here that this was a family dinner, so he will probably be brought down and forced to join us.”

“Nah, he only does that to you, old man. He likes Tim too much to do that to him.”

At that moment, the elevator dinged and an extremely disgruntled Tim was wheeled out in a wheelchair by Alfred.

“I spoke too soon,” Jason said.

“Fuck you, fuck your mom,” Tim snapped.

“Hush, Master Tim.”

“I hate you, Alfred.”

“Yes, I’m sure you do, Master Tim.”

“How much pain medication is he on?” Dick said in an awed voice.

“I will rip your spinal cord out and strangle you with it,” Tim replied.

“A sufficient amount.”

“He’s so murderous,” Jason sounded awed and amused, “Damn, no wonder Ra’s wants to suck his dick so bad.”

“Jason,” Bruce growled.

“I want to suck Kon’s dick,” Tim offered.

“Please tell me you have security cameras in this hallway,” Steph whispered to Dick.

“We do,” he whispered back.

“Why don’t you suck Kon’s dick then, Tim?”

“He died and then we broke up,” Tim replied morosely, “Why does everyone I love die or leave me?”

“Uhhh…”

“Todd, you imbecile! You’ve made him sad,” Damian shrieked as he came around the corner like a bat out of hell. He grabbed Tim’s hand while shooting Jason a venomous glare.

“How was I supposed to know that would upset him?”

“Because you ruin everything!”

“Look in the mirror sometimes, bat brat.”

“Boys, calm down,” Bruce ordered. They tensed up before relaxing and heading off for dinner.

Every seat at the table was set, and Barbara, Wally, Cass, and Terry were already sitting down. Terry was babbling at Cass in toddler speak, and she was watching him with an amused expression.

Dick sat down between Wally and Barbara. Tim was wheeled into place next to Bruce’s seat and Damian sat between Tim and Terry. Steph sat next to Cass, Jason sat between Steph, and Alfred took his place at the end of the table.

“So I’m not the only one in a wheelchair anymore,” Barbara said, bemused. Tim raised his head.

“I’m fine, Alfred’s just being ridiculous.”

“Certainly, Master Tim,” Alfred said, wearing his do-you-honestly-believe-I’ll-fall-for-this expressions.

“Fuck off,” Tim muttered. Barbara giggled.

“Damn, Tim, they’ve got you on the good drugs.”

Clark walked in the room, sitting down next to Bruce.

“I brought Terry back from Ma’s,” he said to Bruce, “Tim, Kon said to tell you hi.”

“But does he love me?” Tim wailed.

“Don’t answer that, Uncle Clark. It’s not worth it. This is just teenage angst,” Dick said.

“I have _depression_ ,” Tim said dramatically.

“Sorry I’m late, everybody,” Duke said as he entered the room and sat next to Jason, “Did I miss anything important?”

“Duke,” Tim said very seriously, “I have depression. And my ex-boyfriend doesn’t love me. And I don’t have a spleen. I’m having a terrible childhood.”

“Am I supposed to respond to that? Because I don’t know how to respond to that.”

“It’s okay, Duke,” Jason replied, “None of us do.” Alfred cleared his throat.

“Would it be possible to interest any of you in eating your dinner?”

“Sorry, Alfred,” they all muttered before digging in.

“So, what kind of table talk do you guys do?” Clark asked, unaware of the firestorm he was starting. Bruce began to regret not taking headache medication before leaving the Cave.

“Ooooh, I have an idea. Let’s discuss Timmy here’s complete and utter lack of creativity when it comes to secret identities. Both his alter egos were invented by other people.”

“At least I wore pants, Mr. Crimes-Out-Thighs-Out,” Tim snapped.

“Hey, Dickybird came up with the panties!”

“But you had the power to change them and you didn’t. Plus, it’s not worth the effort to criticize Dick’s fashion choices. He’s hopeless.”

“Hey!” Dick protested.

“I couldn’t change them, Bruce and I were fucking with the Justice League.”

“And you honestly thought they believed that? Wow, you really are as stupid as your Red Hood uniform looks.”

“My uniform is sexy and cool, screw you.”

“The helmet with facial features is creepy as all get out. Just stick to the one with the eyes, even if it does make you look like a Santee Alley Deadpool costume.”

Wally started laughing as Jason let out a distressed wail.

“I- I do not look like a knockoff Deadpool.”

“Sure ya don’t. Won’t stay dead, guns, red mask, inappropriate jokes, tragic backstory, gay.”

“Damn, Tim, don’t kill him a second time,” Duke interjected.

“Yes, please don’t kill my boyfriend,” Roy said, “Scooch over, kiddo.” Duke moved so Roy could sit next to Jason.

“Who invited you?” Bruce asked.

“I did, Master Bruce.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Is it always like this?” Clark stage-whispered to Dick.

“Actually, this is the calmest it’s ever been.”

“Now seems like a good time for me to make my own inquiry,” Damian announced, “Tim, why did you lie to me about not knowing your heritage?” Tim frowned.

“I didn’t.”

“But in the warehouse, you told the Joker you were Jewish.”

“Oh, that was just a joke about how Bruce was Jewish.”

“Tim, you’re also Jewish,” Bruce said. Tim dropped his fork.

“I am?”

“Yes, Janet was Jewish. I’m pretty sure Jack converted. You didn’t know?”

“No, I had no idea. What the fuck?”

“I thought you knew, too,” Dick said, “I mean, you and Bruce did Hanukkah every year.”

“You were there, too, and you’re not Jewish! I thought it was just a family bonding thing.”

“Oh my god, Tim, your parents are buried in a Jewish cemetery,” Jason yelled.

“They are?”

“How are you a genius and still this stupid?”

“Hey, I didn’t arrange their burials. That was all set up in advance. And it’s not like my parents ever talked to me about these things. Or, like, talked to me.”

“Am I Jewish as well, then?” Damian asked.

“It’s complicated. More Orthodox interpretations would say no, but others say yes. The only way for you to definitively be Jewish would be to convert,” Bruce replied. Damian nodded.

“I’m Jewish,” Tim muttered, “Holy shit.”

“I think you guys broke him,” Roy said.

“Hey, at least he’s not going on about the Kon issue.”

“I’m bi, Jewish, Asian, _and_ depressed,” Tim said quietly, “Wow, Dad, you were really gunning for a diversity award in the adoption department, huh?” Bruce made an offended noise, but internally he was beaming with joy over the fact that Tim called him ‘Dad.’

“Well, he couldn’t really have been gunning for diversity because he doesn’t have any straight kids,” Roy said, “Or Native American kids. I’m all alone.”

“Damian hasn’t come out,” Bruce argued.

“Actually, Father, I have noticed that I am capable of having romantic feelings for beings of many genders,” Damian replied.

“Never mind, Damian has come out. Uh, thank you for bringing this to me, son. I’m glad you felt accepted enough to mention it.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You are bisexual, Father.” Bruce slid down in his chair a bit, wishing he could dig a hole in the ground and disappear.

“Terry hasn’t come out,” he muttered.

“On the way over, Terry was telling me about how he got playground-married to a boy named Malachi. Face it, Bruce, all your kids are queer,” Clark said with great amusement.

“As am I,” Alfred added, “More bread, Master Clark? Master Jason made it.”

“Please. It’s delicious, Jason.”

“Thanks, Clark. You’re much better at being human than B. You two should fuck.”

“JASON,” Bruce snapped, horrified. Clark started laughing.

“I’ve been trying.”

“What?” Bruce turned to Clark, who was grinning at him.

“You haven’t noticed that I’ve been flirting with you for years? World’s greatest detective, who?”

“Y-you…” Bruce went silent. Everyone else continued eating, giving him time to compose himself.

“But, Lois?”

“Lois and I amicably divorced years ago. We still live together because it’s easier to handle custody of Jon.”

“Oh.” He went quiet again.

“But why?”

“Bruce, I’m not listing all the reasons I’m in love with you in front of your kids and dad.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t worry, Clark, this is a good sign. All these damn bats need time to think once you give them emotions,” Barbara said.

“Oh, I’m well aware. I think it’s adorable.”

“I am not-”

“Adorable, I am darkness and the night, yes, Bruce, I know.”

“Hell yeah, another Dad,” Jason said.

“He hasn’t even agreed to date me, Jason.”

“I’ll go out with you,” Bruce said quietly.

“New Dad alert! You hear that, Terry? You have two dads now!”

“Yay!” Terry cheered, not really sure what was going on.

“We’re not married yet,” Bruce grumbled as he started eating again.

“Ooooh, dibs on best man,” Dick said.

“You’ll have to fight Diana for it,” Duke replied as he passed Steph the bread.

“Happy for you,” Cass said with a smile.

“Thank you, Cass.”

“Why does Bruce get a super and I don’t, Dames?” Tim muttered. Damian patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.

“God, I love this family,” Wally said.

“Me too, Wally,” Bruce replied, “Me too.”

* * *

After dinner, everyone retreated back to their rooms (with Damian pushing a very high and giggly Tim back to his) except for Dick.

“I need to get some more clothes from ‘haven, B. I’ll be quick,” he promised.

“Alright, chum. Text me when you’re there and back,” Bruce said, giving him a stiff hug.

“Will do, Dad. Have fun fucking Clark!” Bruce retreated rapidly, a blush taking over his face. Dick turned to face Wally and Babs.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?” Babs asked.

“Nah, I need some time to myself. I won’t be long. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Alright. Bye, babe,” Wally said. Dick kissed both of them goodbye before heading down to the garage and hopping in his car.

He spent the ride to Bludhaven blaring Queen, singing along to “Don’t Stop Me Now” as he pulled into his parking space at his apartment. He stopped the car and looked up. He froze.

The lights in his apartment were on, and there was a woman’s silhouette in the window.

He grabbed his escrima sticks and his service pistol before he headed up the stairs. He wrenched open his apartment door.

The woman was gone. There was a baby carrier on his kitchen table. He walked over to it cautiously, half expecting it to be a bomb.

It wasn’t. The baby blinked up at him, wide blue eyes searching his face. There was a large manila envelope with a sticky note attached tucked into the blue baby blankets.

The note read, “Yes, she’s yours- documents in envelope.” It was signed with a name that made his blood run cold.

_Tarantula._

The baby began to cry, and he hastily picked her up, rocking her gently to calm her down.

“Shhh, shhh, little one, it’s going to be all right,” he reassured with confidence he didn’t have. She settled again.

_Holy shit, what the hell am I going to do?_

He picked up his phone and called Bruce.

“Hey, chum, what’s up?”

“Tarantula was in my apartment,” he said bluntly, “She left me a baby.”

“…Fuck. I’m on my way.”

“Don’t bother. I’m headed back to the Manor. I’ll just grab some clothes. I need you to get…baby things. Oh, god, I don’t even know what things babies _need_.”

“It’ll be fine, chum, you just need to breathe. Want me to send Wally or Clark over?”

“No, I’m fine. I just…I just need to be alone. With this baby. That is mine. I don’t know her name. But she’s mine. My baby. I have a baby. I guess Damian really was a practice run, huh?”

“Dick…”

“I’ve got to go, Bruce. I’ll be back to the Manor as soon as I can. Don’t wait up.” He hung up, then looked down at the baby nestled against his chest. She looked back at him with wide eyes.

“He’s definitely going to wait up.” She didn’t respond, probably because she was a baby. He couldn’t rule out the possibility of a talking baby. His life was already weird enough.

“Alright, kiddo, I’m going to set you down real quick and take a look at this envelope. Then I’m gonna get some clothes and then you’re going to go meet your family. That okay with you?” He carefully tucked her back into the carrier, pulling the blankets over her so she wouldn’t get cold.

He pulled out the papers from the envelope. The first thing that greeted him was a birth certificate.

“May 4th,” he said to himself, “She’s two weeks old.” He kept reading until he found her name.

Neva Mary Grayson. His _daughter_.

* * *

When he pulled into the garage, everyone was waiting for them.

He stepped out, went to the back and pulled the carrier out. He held it aloft in front of them.

“Baby,” he said.

“Yes, Dick, we can see that,” Bruce said gently, stepping forward at the same time as Jason. Jason took the baby and Bruce settled a hand on Dick’s shoulder and steered him into the Manor and the Blue Sitting Room. He was guided to a couch where Babs and Wally sat on either side of him.

“I have a baby,” Dick said, still dumbstruck.

“Yay?” Said Terry. He was shushed by Tim.

“It’s complicated, Terry,” Dick replied, “Very, very complicated.”

“You don’t have to keep her, Dick,” Bruce told him gently.

“No,” Dick snapped, “I’m keeping her. Sure, this isn’t how I wanted to have kids, but now that I have her I’m not giving her up. She’s- I’m all that’s left of the Flying Graysons. And now there’s another. I can’t lose that.”

“Alright, chum. If you’re sure.”

“What’s her name?” Jason asked. He already had her out of the carrier and had her in his arms. Her tiny fingers were wrapped tightly around one of his. Jason looked happier than Dick had ever seen him.

“Neva. Neva Mary Grayson.”

“Sick,” Jason replied, “That’s a badass name. You’re a badass little baby.”

“Dad,” Dick complained, “He’s stealing my kid. He has his own kid. Speaking of, where _is_ your kid?”

“Kori’s got her,” Roy said, “Said it was a ‘ladies’ night.’ Now stop distracting, Dick. Alfred says we need to go baby shopping.” Bruce rubbed his temples.

“Not everyone is going baby shopping. Dick, Jason, Terry, Clark and I are going baby shopping. The rest of you are staying here.”

“We’re coming, too,” Babs said, grabbing Wally’s hand, “After all, we’re helping him raise her, we should get a say.”

“Yeah, we need to make sure she gets fashionable baby clothes,” Wally added.

“You guys…”

“Candy-gram, we’re not leaving you because you got handed an unexpected kid. We’ve dealt with weirder shit. How much more difficult can a baby be?”

“Yeah, I died. I can handle a baby!” Wally exclaimed. Dick started crying.

“Aw, shit, Dickybird’s getting emotional. I’m gonna go put the baby in the car. Someone else can deal with this.”

“Love you too, little wing.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I want a baby,” Tim slurred.

“Tim, you’re seventeen and you know nothing about infant care. You can barely take care of yourself. You don’t get a baby.”

“This is biphobia and anti-Semitism. Damian, help me, I’m being oppressed by our own father.”

“Tim, I’m bi and Jewish.”

“Ah-ha! A turncoat!”

“Alfred, what did you put him on? I swear he wasn’t this bad this morning.”

“Master Timothy needed a higher dose of morphine.”

“I did,” Tim cried, flinging himself about dramatically, “I was in so much pain.”

“I can’t deal with this,” Bruce muttered, “Roy, you’re in charge of the kids while we’re gone. Cass, you’re in charge of Roy.”

“Hell yeah,” Roy exclaimed, “C’mon, kiddos, we’re gonna watch Keeping Up With the Kardashians and come up with a list of reasons why Watching the Waynes should be a thing.”

“Cass, stop him from making that happen,” Bruce said, “Now everyone get in the car. We’re going shopping.”

“C’mon, B, really, missing that Mean Girls reference?” Dick whined.

“Just get it the car, Dick.”

They all loaded up into the Cadillac Escalade. Jason was sitting in the back with Terry and Wally, Dick and Babs in the middle with Neva, and Clark and Bruce in the front.

“Where are we going?” Wally said from the back.

“The 24-hour Target,” Bruce responded. He started the car and pulled out of the garage. They drove down the winding driveway in silence before Dick spoke up.

“Can we play some Queen? It’s my comfort music.”

“Thank god I raised at least one of you right,” Bruce muttered as he pulled up Spotify. The manic circus intro of Brighton Rock came gently over the speakers. Dick visibly relaxed.

“Hey, B, can we each have a cart at Target?” Jason called from the back.  

“Well, I don’t see why not.”

“Bruce, you have to teach them how to manage money.”

“I’m a billionaire, Clark. I have too much money. I donate 90% of my annual income and I still have too much money. Don’t ask me how that works, Tim did it.”

“Yeah, Clark, congratulations. He’s your sugar daddy now.”

“A little more respect, Jase. Just a touch more.”

“Bruce, you are _way_ too calm about all of this.”

“My children have done worse. Not that Dick’s done anything wrong. Just that a baby is less shocking then Jason rising from the dead.”

“You should call it pulling a Jesus, Dad, it’s way more fun.”

“Alright, son.”

“Mr. Wayne, can I buy a sofa at Target?”

“You can buy whatever you like, Wally.”

“Thanks, Mr. Wayne!”

“Why do you need a sofa, Wally?”

“For my house, Babs.”

“Just move into the Manor,” Bruce said. Everyone stared at him.

“What?”

“Dad, I’ve been dating them for less than a day.”

“So? We have 46 bedrooms.”

“You have 46 _what_?” Clark exclaimed.

“46 _bedrooms_ , Clark. Are you going deaf?”

“Why do you have that many bedrooms?”

“Guests,” Bruce replied, giving them all strange looks.

“Rich people,” Jason grumbled in the backseat.

“Don’t you have a trust fund?”

“Don’t remind me, West.”

“Jason’s hatred of my wealth aside, we do have plenty of space and it only makes sense to consolidate. Jason’s welcome to bring his friends. Clark’s welcome, of course.”

“You’re just trying to set up a gay fighting compound, aren’t you,” Jason accused. Bruce smirked.

“Maybe. You can’t deny it’s a logical and economical decision. And Alfred would be happy to see all of my children every day.”

“Fine, you win. I’ll talk to Roy about it.”

“I’m down,” Wally said, “I’ve always wanted to live in a mansion.”

“Hey, candy-gram, you okay with this?” Dick nodded, “Okay, count me into the Manor crew.”

“Clark?”

“I’ll talk to Lois but- fair warning- she’ll probably only agree to get the inside scoop on you guys.”

“Lois is perfectly welcome to interview any member of my family about anything. However, the kids must stick to the agreed upon narratives so she won’t get much. That means you, Jason.”

“Damn it, I was going to tell her we have crazy orgies in the conservatory.”

“That’s not true, Jason, there’s only ever been one orgy in that conservatory.”

“Wait, what?” Dick asked.

“Oh, you were at sleepaway camp, Alfred was on vacation, and I was a 25-year-old rich guy with a reputation to uphold. It wasn’t even that great. I spent most of it eating brie and talking about tax shelters.”

“I can’t believe you suck the fun out of orgies, Dad,” Jason replied, “Dios, you’re such a fucking buzzkill.”

“You had an orgy while I was at summer camp?” Dick shrieked.

“Yes, Dick, sometimes I do things when you’re not around. Sometimes these things are sexual in nature. To quote Tim, ‘it’s really not that deep.’”

“Oh my god, Babs. My dad fucks.”

“Oh boy,” Babs muttered, “Also, I don’t care if it’s been 12 years, I’m never going in that conservatory again.”

* * *

Dick was having a mental breakdown in the crib aisle at Target. He was slouched on the floor, staring at a walnut colored crib. There was the sound of footsteps approaching him before Bruce joined him on the floor.

“Doing okay, chum?”

“Does it look like I’m okay, B?” He choked out.

“Well, it has been a hell of a week,” Bruce mused, “Shit, at the beginning of it I was brainstorming ways to keep two of my kids from killing each other and now they can’t be separated. Life’s funny like that.”

“I have a _kid_ , Bruce.”

“You do.”

“God-” he slammed his head back into the display behind him- “How the fuck am I going to explain her existence to her? How do I tell her without hurting her? Because I never want to hurt her. I never want her to hurt. I never want her to feel bad for existing.”

“You’ll at least handle it better than I’ve handled Damian.” Dick spun his head around to look at Bruce.

“What? You mean…Talia…”

“Raped me, yes. I do. It happened just before I adopted you, though Damian wasn’t created for about another four years. I’d been off on my training expedition. It’s not easy, sometimes, to look at him and know how he came to be. To know that for so many years, he was subjected to things I can’t even imagine. Sometimes, when I let those thoughts get to me, I let my resentment cloud my judgment. It’s not right and I know it’s put a barrier between the two of us. A barrier you two don’t have. When I died, you stepped up to the plate and did better with him than I ever could.”

“But I fucked Tim to all hell in the process.”

“Well, unfortunately, you’ll find a lot of parenthood is making mistakes. I mean, hell, I don’t exactly have a great track record. Jim Gordon’s fucked up a fair few times. Even Alfred made some mistakes with me.”

“ _Alfred_ made mistakes?”

“Believe it or not, Dick, one man cannot replace a child’s entire social circle. My peers withdrew from me after my parents were killed. I was relatively alone for most of my youth. I became depressed and suicidal. But I…I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it. So I looked for a reason to live, and I found it in the mask. And I’d barely even come into my own with that when I found another one.”

“And what was that? Giving Alfred grey hairs?” Dick teased, desperately needing to lighten the mood.

“No, Dick. You.”

“What?”

“You kids keep me going. Even when I don’t have the strength to live for myself, I’ve had you all to live for. That’s why I spiraled so badly when we lost Jason and you stopped talking to me. This is not a criticism, I can see you starting to feel guilty. You were right to distance yourself in that situation. I hadn’t been good to you.

“And then Tim showed up and I was so afraid of messing him up that I accidentally pushed him away. He was just this bright, happy little guy and I just wanted to kill the Drakes every time he lit up because I acknowledged him for something small. I once showed up to his house to check on him because he had the flu and he started crying, Dick. Just flat out sobbing because of how happy he was that I was there.

“But, see, I’m not worried about you fucking up like I have, or Talia has, or the Drakes did. You’ve got a good heart, Dick, and a good head on your shoulders when you’re not in a snit. And you’ve got all of us to fall back. And don’t be worried about not knowing what you’re doing. No parent fully knows what they’re doing. I, personally, have never once known what I’m doing and everything seems to have turned out alright so far.”

At that exact moment, Jason and Wally raced by, Jason sitting in a shopping cart and Wally pushing him.

“Oreos, Oreos, Oreos,” they chanted as they charged through the Target. Bruce’s face froze in horror and exasperation.

“Are you sure everything’s turned out alright, Dad?”

“Just as long as they don’t crash,” Bruce muttered.

There was a loud crash and a clattering.

“Oh, fuck me up the ass with a marinara coated spear,” Bruce swore, “I’m never adopting again.”

* * *

Damian shut the audio feed off with the click of the button. He carefully removed his headphones and set them gently on the desk.

“It seems,” he said to himself, “That Mother lied to me about the nature of her and Father’s relationship.”

“Whassat?” Tim groaned.

“Nothing, Tim. Go to sleep.”

“No,” Tim grumbled as he dozed off.

Damian rose silently and made his way to his bedroom. Once there, he locked and barricaded his door. He lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. The white paint revealed nothing to him.

He lay there for many hours in the silence of his room. He did not think. He did not fall asleep. He did not move. He did not think he could.

* * *

Bruce pulled into the garage and shut off the car. He could have sworn he’d aged twenty years in the three hours they spent at Target.

“C’mon, B, it wasn’t _that_ bad,” Jason whined.

“You cost me ten thousand dollars’ worth of damages. In Target.”

Jason scoffed.

“You’re a billionaire. You could probably buy Target.”

“Vicki Vale will have my head for this. How am I supposed to explain Jason being alive, let alone crashing into a display of TVs in Target?”

“Maybe Tim has a plan for this,” Clark said, desperately trying to keep the peace, “He’s got a lot of plans.”

“Yeah, check Tim’s plans,” Dick said.

“Okay, okay.” Bruce pulled up Tim’s planning folder. Under Heading “Death”, Subheading “Bats” and Subheading “Jason,” was the file “Bringing Jason Back to Life.” He clicked on it.

It read: “Jason Peter Todd-Wayne has returned to life thanks to some alien bullshit we don’t understand.”

“Well,” Bruce said, “That does seem pretty easy.”

“What?”

“You’ll see at the press conference tomorrow, Jay-lad.”

They began unloading all the packages and making the long trek up to the third floor. They stepped out and began heading towards the room designated as Neva’s when Roy stopped them.

“There’s, uh, a bit of a situation,” he said, “Damian’s locked himself in his room.”

“That’s not exactly atypical behavior for Damian, Roy,” Dick replied.

“Well, he locked himself in his room and left Tim sitting unattended on the couch and won’t answer me.”

“Are you sure, Dick?”

“Roy, I’ve been dealing with Damian for years longer than you have. Sometimes the little dude just needs a break.”

“If you say so,” Roy said, clearly doubtful. But he swallowed his doubts and instead focused on helping them set up Neva’s room.

* * *

Tim awoke to a throbbing pain behind his eyes and a cat on his chest. One of these things was unusual.

“Fuck off, Alfred,” he grumbled as he tried desperately to dislodge the cat, “Go find Dames.” The cat persisted, meowing loudly and clawing at his face. The pinpricks of pain were enough to jostle Tim far enough into wakefulness to realize that something was afuck.

Tim rose from his bed, holding the cat in his arms as he walked out into the hallway just as Roy emerged from Jason’s room.

“Hey, Roy, any idea where Damian is? I have his cat.”

“Oh, he locked himself in his room last night. Dick said to just leave him. Said he was probably being antisocial.”

“Uh-huh. And when, pray tell, is Dick going to realize that Damian hasn’t retreated like that in the past year?”

“Uhhh….”

“Don’t bother answering, Roy. I have to go fix this.” He stalked down the hall to Damian’s room. Distantly he heard Roy say, “Babe, you might want to wake up. I think Tim’s on the warpath. There will be blood.”

He banged rapidly on Damian’s door.

“Dames? You in there?” There was no reply.

“Dames, I have Alfred the cat with me and I’m not afraid to get the OG Alfred on your ass. Let me in.” There was a shuffling and Damian unlocked the door.

He, simply put, looked like shit. There were dark bags under his irritated eyes and he was curled in on himself. Tim dropped the cat and wrapped him in a hug.

“Oh, Dames,” he murmured, “What happened?”

“I have learned the truth about what Father thinks of me and of Mother and Father’s…relationship,” Damian replied stiffly, “Thank you for returning my cat, Drake. That will be all.” He shoved Tim back and slammed the door. Tim stood in the hallway, shocked, before a rage took over him.

He stalked down the three flights of stairs and through the hall to the dining room, where he slammed open the door and met Bruce and Dick’s shocked faces with a glower.

“What. The. Hell. Did. You. Do,” he snarled, “Damian was fine when I fell asleep last night, and now he’s regressed again!”

“Tim, please calm down,” Bruce pleased, “You’ll upset the baby.”

“Oh, really? How about the baby that’s already upset? Your fucking son is locked in his room crying and I can’t tell what’s going on, but apparently you did something and I want to know what so I can fix it! And for fuck’s sake, Dick, maybe pull your head out of your ass every once in a while. I haven’t even been living here and I knew that Damian hasn’t self-isolated in well over a year. Would it kill you to be a little be more engaged? Or be wrong, for that matter? Even if he _had_ been self-isolating it still wouldn’t have hurt to check. But, no, Dick Grayson is always right about everything all the time and everyone else just has to fucking _die_.”

“Tim, I-”

“Shut up, Dick, I’ve heard just e-fucking-nough of your opinions today! I’ve had enough for a lifetime! You just make up your mind and steamroll anyone who gets in your way. Jason’s cleaning up Gotham with alternative methods that actually work? Throw him in Arkham, because Dick Grayson doesn’t like them. Damian’s having a negative reaction to something? Don’t bother checking, Dick said it was alright. Bruce might not be dead? Oh, Dick says he’s dead so just take him out back and shoot him, I guess. Oh, wait, Dick said no guns. Guess that’s out.”

“Okay, now you’re just being unfair.”

“Takes one to fucking know one.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dick was rising from his seat now, exhaustion giving way to rage. He loomed over Tim, but the younger boy stood his ground. He knew if it came down to it he could take Dick in a fight.

“Oh, just that you love to disregard anything you don’t like as being wrong or inaccurate without giving it a chance. You didn’t like what I was saying about Bruce being alive, so obviously poor Timmy is suffering from a mental breakdown.”

“Of course I didn’t believe you! Do you have any idea how insane ‘I know Bruce died but he’s really alive’ _sounds_ , Tim? Because it doesn’t sound great!”

“Oh, fuck you, it’s not as if it would have been the weirdest thing that we’ve ever dealt with. And you can’t even call me out because you weren’t handling the situation well, either.”

“Oh, yeah? How wasn’t I handling the situation well, Tim? Enlighten me. Because I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the one who fucked off to the desert to team up with the League!”

“I wouldn’t have had to team up with Ra’s if you hadn’t kicked me out of Gotham!”

“When the hell did I kick you out of Gotham? All I did was give Robin to Damian. Doesn’t mean you’re out of the city.”

“How are you this fucking stupid and still able to breathe and move at the same time? You take my position away from me, try to throw me in Arkham, give Damian my. Fucking. Team. And you still can’t see how you didn’t drive me off? I knew I was just your second chance to be a good brother to you, but I thought I at least mattered more than _that_.” Dick flinched.

“Tim, I-”

“Just shut the fuck up, Dick. I’m done hearing your excuses. Maybe you should try putting in effort rather than just apologizing for not even bothering,” Tim snapped before whipping around and stalking back to the entrance hall to the elevator. Footsteps sounded after him, but he refused to stop or look back.

Bruce caught up to him on the second-floor landing.

“Son-”

“Don’t bother yelling at me, I’ll apologize to him in a couple hours once I calm down,” Tim muttered. Bruce sighed and grabbed Tim by the shoulders, forcing him to turn around. Tim stared down at his bare feet. There were still the barest remnants of nail polish on his toenails from the last time he’d been invited to girl’s night at Selina’s. Bruce gently lifted his chin so he had to look the older man in the eye.

“That hurts my neck, you walking tree.”

Bruce snorted.

“I’m not going to yell at you for going after Dick. I wish you’d been a bit calmer about it, but I think you saw an excuse to yell at him for things you’d been bottling up for a while now and ran with it. And while that isn’t a great way to handle your problems, it had to happen eventually. Just…talk to him later, okay? I think you both need to calm down.”

“I don’t wanna,” Tim grumbled. Bruce laughed and mussed up Tom’s hair.

“Chin up, kiddo. You’ll survive a conversation with your brother.”

“Sure I will. By the way, what did you say last night at Target? Dames seems pretty tore up about it,” Tim deflected. Bruce frowned.

“What do you mean? Damian wasn’t at Target.”

“He was listening in on you guys. Something about being worried about Dick? I can’t remember, I was pretty out of it.”

“Oy gevalt,” Bruce swore, “He heard me talking about his mother.”

“What about Talia?”

“Well, ah, the collection of the genetic material used in Damian’s creation wasn’t exactly consensual.”

“So she raped you,” Tim said bluntly.

“Yes, that would be the truth, but very indelicately put. Anyways, Dick’s daughter was conceived under very…similar circumstances, so I was advising him and may have implied that I resent Damian for his own conception.”

“Wait, Dick was raped? Dick has a kid? Okay, never mind that, I’ll talk to him later. You said _what_ about Damian when he could be listening?”

“How was I supposed to know he would be spying on me?” Bruce grumbled.

“He’s a _Robin_ , Bruce, it’s what we _do_. You have to talk to him.”

“I can’t right now. I have to resurrect Jason before this whole thing spirals out of control. I already have conspiracy theorists harassing me about the zombie apocalypse beginning and me trying to cover it up. I’ll talk to Damian later once I can actually think about what to say to him so I don’t fuck this up further.”

“Hmph. Fine. I’ll go talk to him right now and try to calm him down.”

“Thank you, Tim.”

“I want some new computers for my lab in return.”

“Whatever you need, son,” Bruce said, kissing the top of Tim’s head, “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” Tim replied, stalking back off towards Damian’s room.

* * *

Back in the dining room, Jason was eating half a loaf of sourdough. It was delicious, just the right amount of tang with a beautiful crust.

Oh, and Dick was crying.

It was very ugly crying, really. Dick was one of those people who seemed like he was beautiful even when sobbing his eyes out, but, in truth, his face puffed up and developed blotches the color of an overripe tomato. When he got really worked up he’d start making high pitched keening noises that always made Jason want to throttle him.

 _I am not a very compassionate person,_ Jason thought as he lobbed a wadded-up napkin at Dick’s head.

“Oi, fuckface. Quit yer caterwauling, I’m trying to eat my breakfast.”

“Tim hates me,” Dick wailed.

“Well, duh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You replaced him, Dick-bitch. Of course he hates you. Also, you tried to lock him in Arkham which was majorly not cool. Y’know, speaking as a guy you threw in Arkham.”

“I apologized for that!”

“To me, yeah. But did you apologize to Tim?”

Dick froze, his eyes moving rapidly as he searched through his memories for any instance of that conversation. Once he realized his search was futile, he slumped forward and put his head in his hands.

“I really fucked this up, didn’t I?”

“Yup,” Jason said as he took a sip of coffee, “You really did. For fuck’s sake, this past year I’ve been a better brother to Tim than you, and I’ve tried to kill him twice. That’s a sign that something’s afuck, Dickie.”

“How do I fix this?”

“You talk to him? Beg his forgiveness? Fucking hug the kid? Poor little bastard’s touch starved.”

“Jason, it’s time to go,” Bruce said from the doorway, “Dick, I expect to be hearing you talked to Tim later.” Dick nodded as Jason stood up.

“Later, big wing. How do I look, B?”

“You look very nice, son.”

Jason was dressed in an outfit that Tim had picked out for him to wear for the occasion of his return to being legally and publicly alive (he didn’t even _want_ to know how the little fucker had gotten his exact measurements). His slacks were black, the patent leather wingtips artistically scuffed, burgundy button up tucked into the pants. A belt cinched the look together, and as per Tim’s notes Jason had rolled up the shirt’s sleeves and left the first two buttons undone. He’d also been directed to line his eyes with a touch of smoky eyeliner.

Roy had taken one look at him and let out a noise like he had just been stabbed, so Jason guessed the kid had done a pretty good job.

He and Bruce got into one of Bruce’s stupid sports cars- bikes were so much cooler- and they drove off.

They sat in silence for about ten minutes before Bruce cleared his throat.

“So, uh, Jason. What’re you thinking about?”

“How Oscar Wilde’s novels would have been a whole lot gayer if he’d lived in the present day.”

“I meant about returning to the public life.”

“Oh. That’s fine, I guess. The galas are gonna suck major balls, though.” To Jason’s shock and horror, Bruce laughed.

“I’ve missed that,” the man said once he’d calmed down.

“My swearing?”

“Your spirit. I didn’t realize just how much I appreciated it until you were…”

“Gone,” Jason said, then paused, “You know, I don’t remember it. Being dead. I remember dying. I remember waking up. And I remember those few weeks afterward before I was put in the pit. Everyone thought I didn’t know what was going on, but I did. And I kept asking for you, but no one would bring you. Then Talia showed up and I thought she might bring me to you but then she just put me in that fucking thing. And you know what’s the worst part? She always said it was to fix my mind. But my mind was fine. It was my body that was fucked to all hell. But after the pit, my body was better than ever and my mind was shot to hell. I always say I couldn’t think beyond the rage but there was a small part of me telling me to stop what I was doing whenever I went after someone innocent. I just ignored it. Did what Talia said. Reaped the ‘benefits.’”

“What benefits?” Bruce asked.

“Sex,” Jason admitted quietly. Bruce’s hands tightened on the wheel.

“She raped you,” he ground out through clenched teeth.

“No, she didn’t,” Jason said half-heartedly. 

“You were fifteen, Jason. You couldn’t consent to it, so knock that shit off right now. I’m going to kill her. Traumatizing me wasn’t enough, she had to go after my kids. She and her father are one sick fucking pair.”

“What’d she do to you?” Jason asked.

“She raped me too, son. Drugged me. It’s how she got the DNA to make Damian.”

“Assaulted by the same woman, huh,” Jason muttered, “How fucked up is our family life?”

“Can’t forget her father’s obsession with my seventeen-year-old,” Bruce added, “We should just point Alfred in their direction, really.”

“Alfie’s the family executioner now. Anyone fucks with us they get a taste of his shotgun.”

“I can picture it now. Alfred standing over Talia’s body with a smoking gun while ‘Another One Bites the Dust’ plays in the background.”

“Good old Alf, always taking out the trash for us.”

They were in stitches as they tore across the bridge to Gotham. Once they were finally able to breathe again, Bruce looked at Jason with a serious expression on his face.

“I love you, son,” he said, “And I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from all that’s happened to you. Sorry I was part of the problem. And I’m so glad you’ll be back in my life, even if it’s just to share in misery about galas.”

“I love you too, B. Even if you are making me go to a press conference.”

“Hey, you crashed into the TVs. I was busy comforting your brother.”

“Oh, was he freaking out about the kid?”

“Yes.”

“He’ll be fine. He hasn’t fucked Damian up so far. Might’ve screwed up with the rest of us, but he did okay with one.”

“And he will have the support of his family,” Bruce added. Jason shrugged.

“Sure, yeah. Family support and all that jazz. Free babysitting. Just as long as either she or Terry replace Damian as Robin someday. Little twerp needs to know what it feels like.”

“I’m not getting involved in this,” Bruce said wisely. They pulled into the WE parking lot and Bruce parked the car in his spot. He turned to Jason.

“You ready?” He asked. Jason shrugged.

“As I’ll ever be,” the young man replied. They got out.

* * *

Tim didn’t bother knocking on Damian’s door this time, just picked the lock and let himself in.

“Go away,” Damian shouted. He was wrapped in a pile of brightly colored blankets and had jammed himself in the back of his closet, which made him look like a very angry nesting bird. Tim resolutely ignored him, instead worming his way into the blanket pile so he could give his little brother a hug.

“Go away, Drake,” the kid hissed as he wrapped his arms tightly around the other boy.

“And to think, we were doing so well,” Tim teased. Damian ignored him.

“You want to talk about it, Dames?”

“I do not.”

“Well, too bad. You have to.”

“You will not understand.”

“Try me.”

“Father finds me to be a reminder of the fact that Mother… _raped_ him. I am finding it difficult to reconcile this with the image Mother presented to me of her and Father having a grand romance. I find that it is impossible for me to believe that Father could love something that came from such a terrible experience for him,” Damian took a breath before quietly saying, “I sometimes find it difficult to believe that anyone could love me.” Tim’s heart clenched in his chest.

“We all love you, Dames. You’re a great kid.”

“I don’t understand why! I have done nothing to earn your affections. From the very start I have been offensive and cruel. I killed people- innocent people! I tried to kill _you_.  I don’t know what I’ve done to earn your love.”

“Oh, Dames,” Tim said mournfully, “Love shouldn’t be conditional. It shouldn’t be earned. Now, I will admit that you were a bit unlovable when you first came here because of the way you were raised, but you’ve genuinely put a lot of effort into becoming a better person. And you’ve been pretty damn successful. Everyone should be born with the right to love and be loved. Your mother robbed you of those rights, but you took them back by turning your back on her and becoming a good person. You couldn’t be one before. You were never given the chance. And that’s wrong, Dames, that’s so wrong.

“Everyone in this family loves you, Damian, and we know you love us too. Alfred knows because you named your cat for him, and he looks at you with the same pride he has in all of us. Dick knows because he’s smart like that. He’s loved you since he met you, Dames. He thinks the world of you. Jason, for all his teasing, has defended you multiple times to people criticizing your past. Steph sees through your bullshit and Cass is just a sweetheart who loves all of us. Duke thinks we’re insane but wouldn’t trade us for the world, no matter what he says. Bruce loves you, Dames, because you’re his son and his Robin, and your origins mean next to nothing against those facts. He’s going to come to talk to you later, explain himself. And as for me, I’ve only recently figured out you love me and that I love you too. You went from kicking me out to pulling me back against my will. You were the only one who both noticed I was self-isolating _and_ tried to do something about it. You tended my wounds, comforted me while I was in pain. You’ve changed so much, Dames, and you’ve become such a great person. I’m proud of you. We’re all proud of you.” By the time he finished speaking, tears were leaking from both of their eyes. Tim took the sleeve of his pajamas and wiped the tears from his brother’s face before cleaning off his own.

“Do you mean it?” Damian whispered.

“Of course, kiddo,” he said matter-of-factly, “You know, I always wanted a little brother. Begged my parents for one, but they didn’t want me in the first place, so I never got that brother. Now, I have you and Terry. I lucked out to get two great little brothers.”

“Shut up, Tim,” Damian retorted, blushing. Tim laughed.

“Alright, enough time in the closet. Let’s go for a walk in the grounds. I’ll show you my stock of blackmail pics on Dick and Jason.”

“Can I bring Titus?”

“Of course you can.”

“Can we have breakfast afterward?”

“Nah, we’ll snag some bread rolls and Thermoses of coffee for the walk. Meet you by the stairs in ten.”

“Alright.”

* * *

The press room was abuzz with the chatter of the reporters, but they came to a hush as Bruce and Jason walked in. Bruce stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat.

“Good morning, everyone. Many of you will remember my son, Jason Todd. You may also recall that five years ago, he was brutally murdered. I am glad to announce that he was resurrected four years ago by forces that we still do not understand. He has been keeping a low profile these past few years to recover fully from his traumatic death.”

Hands shot up into the air.

“You.”

“Cody Bianchi, New York Times. Any comment on last night’s incident, Mr. Wayne?”

“If you are referring to my eldest’s best friend and Jason crashing a shopping cart into a display of flat screen TVs in Target, I can assure you all that that was an accident born of youthful bravado. We have covered the cost of damages. You next.”

“Lois Lane, Daily Planet. Would it be possible to get a statement from Mr. Todd himself about his resurrection?”

“Sure,” Jason said cheerfully, “For one, I prefer to refer to as ‘pulling a Jesus.’ For another, I’ve been having a great time. Doing some family bonding, talking about my problems, sucking my gorgeous boyfriend’s dick. Y’know, the usual post-Jesus-pulling activities.”

Their PR manager hastily ended the press conference after that.

* * *

Duke had been handed the baby the moment he entered the dining room.

“Why are you giving me her?” He asked, “Not protesting. Just curious.”

“I have to talk to Tim,” Dick replied in a defeated tone.

“Alright. Then Neva will just have to come have some fun with her Uncle Duke. Doesn’t that sound nice, sweetheart?” She thrust her hand towards his face as he smiled down at her.

“Thanks, Duke,” his older brother said, giving him a quick hug before slipping from the dining room. Duke promptly pulled out his phone and googled ‘what do almost a month-old babies do for fun.’ After five minutes of scrolling, he sighed and gave up.

“Y’know what, kiddo? I’m just going to read you a story.”

“No fair! I want a story too,” Terry cried, entering the room with Cass close behind him.

“How about I read both of you a story?” Duke suggested. Terry thought about it, serious expression just like Bruce’s but in miniature.

“Okay!” He said once he was done thinking about it.

“Awesome. Let’s head to the library. We can find a book there. Cass, would you like to join us as well?”

“Can’t. Dance practice. Hang out later.”

“Sounds good. Have fun.”

“Will.”

He extended a hand to Terry, who took it and they began the walk to the library. As they made their way through the ground floor ballroom, Terry was chattering away about his new husband Malachi, who was apparently ‘the coolest guy ever, even cooler than Bat-Dad’ (Terry had yet to grasp the concept that Bruce and Batman were one and the same) when he paused.

“Duke,” he said seriously, “Don’t ya think it’s weird that I’m six and I’m an uncle?”

“This whole family is weird, kid. That’s honestly the least of your concerns.” Terry paused to consider this before shrugging and continuing to talk about Malachi, who had apparently given him his applesauce while they were at lunch.

“That was nice of him. Did you say thank you?”

“Of course I did, Duke! I’m not a monster.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Once they were in the library, Terry detached their hands and took off towards one of the shelves. He pulled out a book and presented it to Duke.

“I want to read this.” Duke blinked.

“This is…fairly advanced for your age.” It was the Book of Enoch. Terry shrugged.

“I just think it’s fun.”

“Alrighty then,” Duke said under his breath before raising his voice a bit, “Let’s sit down.”

It took a minute to arrange everything so he could hold Neva and read at the same time. Terry was in the chair next to him, wrapped in a blanket and focusing on him with Bruce’s intense gaze. Duke took a deep breath and opened the book.

“The word of the blessing of Enoch, how he blessed the elect and the righteous, who were to exist in the time of trouble…”

* * *

Roy was amusing himself in Jason’s absence by taking over the lab in the BatCave and attempting to building a sword into his latest mech arm. A retractable blade that he could use in case of emergencies. Or showing off. Showing off was also good. 

Unfortunately, the retractable part was giving him trouble. Damn thing didn’t want to collapse. He slammed his head into the table with frustration.

Hands touched gently on his shoulders and began to work at the knots in his muscles.

“Hey, now,” Jason said, “Don’t go damaging your face, babe. It’s a one-of-a-kind masterpiece and I’m a lover of the arts.” Roy sat up and leaned into his boyfriend’s touch, craning his head back so he could see Jason’s face.

“God, just marry me already,” he muttered in Navajo. Jason smiled down at him with that stupid sappy smile he was doing more and more often these days and bent down to kiss him.

“How’s the work?” He asked once they separated. Roy groaned.

“Terrible. Can’t figure out how to make the damn collapsible feature work.” Jason hummed.

“You’ll figure it out. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Kori still have Lian?”

“Yup. Girls night is apparently girls’ weekend now. They’re at the spa in Iceland.”

“Fancy,” was Jason’s only comment on that, “C’mon, get up. I made us lunch. Want to go down to the lake and eat there? It’s too gorgeous a day for you to spend it locked in this gloomy old place.”

“What did I do in a past life to get you?” Roy asked as he stood.

“Probably saved the world,” Jason teased, grabbing Roy’s hand. They made their way up to the Manor’s kitchen to get the picnic basket Jason had prepared.

Damian was in the kitchen, wrapped in a large blanket Jason vaguely recalled as having been Bruce’s when he was a kid. He was standing on a chair, struggling to retrieve a loaf of bread from the top shelf of the pantry. Jason grabbed it handed it to him.

“Thank you,” the boy said stiffly.

“No problem, squirt. Where’s Timbo?”

“Tim is setting up a movie. I was charged with snacks.”

“Have fun. We’re headed down to the lake for a picnic.”

“Tt. As if I care.” He fled the room, blanket dragging behind him.

“What an adorable little murderer he is,” Jason cooed before grabbing the basket, “C’mon, babe, let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

“You really are the bad boy with a heart of gold stereotype, aren’t you?”

“I try, gorgeous.”

“You probably save cats from trees and help old ladies cross the road.”

“Of course I do! I’m a killer, not a _monster_.” Roy laughed.

“God, I love you, you stupid bitch.”

“Love you too, babe.”

* * *

Once the movie finished, Damian turned to Tim.

“Your insistence on spending time in my presence has shifted from you wanting to comfort me to you wanting to avoid your conversation with Grayson. I am going to speak with Father now, so you can avoid it no longer.” With that, Damian stood and left the movie room.

Tim sighed before getting up himself. If he had to guess, he’d say that Dick was probably in his trapeze room, so he headed there first.

Sure enough, Dick was there, doing some complicated maneuver that Tim didn’t have a name for. He waited until Dick had finished to speak.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly.

“Hey,” Dick replied. They sat there for five minutes before Tim spoke again.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”

“It’s okay, Tim. I’m actually glad you did. This conversation’s been a long time coming.”

“Oh,” Tim muttered, not quite sure what to say. After all, what do you say to someone you love who discarded you when you needed them most?

“I’m sorry,” Dick said, “Though I know it’s not enough. I fucked up with you, Tim. I really, really did. And I’m so sorry that I couldn’t see how badly I was hurting you. I was trying to stop Damian from going off the rails and I-I don’t know. There’s no excuse. I guess I just assumed you’d know what I meant when I gave Robin to Damian.”

“What did you mean?”

“I couldn’t have you as my Robin, Tim. I couldn’t stomach having you as a sidekick because I feel like we’re equals. I looked at you and I thought you didn’t need my help. Damian…Damian did. And as for the Arkham thing, I…I just didn’t know what to do. So I did the worst thing I could have done. I pushed you away and I hurt you. I made you feel unwelcome and unloved and I’m so sorry Tim. I’m so so sorry.”

“Thanks, Dick. It’s not okay, but I forgive you. You were dealing with a lot. You were bound to make a few mistakes somewhere along the line. I think…I think if I hadn’t had the year I’d had it would have been easier to cope with that and it wouldn’t have been as hard on me. But shit, everyone was leaving me. Steph, Jack, Bruce, Bart…you. It was _hell_. I was never great with being left behind in the first place but after that? I…I can’t do it. I can’t even get back together with Kon because I’m terrified he’ll die on me again. I love him so much but every time I have to say goodbye to him I start to panic because what if it’s the last time I see him? The people I love were dropping like flies, Damian was kicking me out of my new home, and I…I broke, Dick. When Ra’s threw me from that building, I didn’t think you’d be there to catch me.” Dick paled.

“Tim…you didn’t have a grapple on you.”

“I know.”

“Then you…you weren’t expecting to make it out of that fight alive, were you?” Tim shrugged.

“Can’t say that I was. Y’know, as I was falling, it seemed almost poetic, falling to my death.”

“ _What_?”

“Ra’s succeeding where his grandson failed. Killing me by making me fall to my death.”

“I don’t understand.” Tim gave Dick a confused look.

“Damian cut my grapple line a few years back. I thought you knew.”

“He _what_?” Dick snarled.

_Ah. Right. Flying Graysons. Fell to their deaths. Oops._

“It’s not that big of a deal, Dick. He apologized.”

“You are entirely too casual about this whole people trying to kill you thing! Someone could fucking shoot you and you’d probably thank them.”

“I’m not  _that_ bad.”

“You _really_ are.”

“Well maybe if everyone would stop fucking leaving me or ignoring me I wouldn’t be like this! Maybe if my parents had fucking taught me I mattered I wouldn’t have such a hard time believing it! I’m working myself into an early grave and the only ones who noticed were people who tried to kill me! So maybe, just _maybe_ I’d try harder to live if I felt like there was something for me to live _for_. I’m not stupid, Dick, I know this isn’t healthy. But I can’t…I don’t know how to stop thinking like this. It’s the only way I’ve ever thought.” Once the words started, they flooded out of Tim, leaving him drained once they dried up. Dick opened and closed his mouth several times like dying fish before rushing over to Tim and wrapping him in a hug.

“Oh, Tim,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice. I’m getting increasingly glad B made those therapy appointments, though. God, we could all use some fucking Lexapro.”

“What’s that?” Tim’s voice was muffled by Dick’s shoulder.

“PTSD medication. Hell, maybe we should all throw some anti-depressants in there, too.”

“Sounds good. Hey, when did you get a kid?”

“Last night. Don’t you remember?”

“I only remember bits and pieces of it. I was _really_ high.”

“Well, uh, I went to my apartment to grab some clothes and Tar- the mother had dropped her off there.”

“Who is this bitch abandoning babies? I didn’t think any of your ex-girlfriends were that crazy.”

Dick took a step back. His hands were alive, fidgeting with discomfort.

“She…she wasn’t an ex.”

“Dick?” Tim asked, eying his brother with concern. The older boy was shaking.

“It was Tarantula. She raped me.”

“Holy shit, Dick. Are you okay? That’s a stupid question. Sorry. Can I do anything to help? Like kill her? Because I can do that. I am very homicidal right now.” Dick smiled at Tim’s outburst.

“I’m not okay, Tim. But I feel like I will be. Like we all will be. For the first time in a while, things are looking up.”

* * *

Bruce took a deep breath before knocking on Damian’s door.

It was immediately flung open.

“Father,” Damian said.

“Damian. May I come in?”

“Of course.” The boy stepped aside to let him pass through. Damian closed the door.

“I, uh, need to clarify some things I said last night. I…am not phenomenal at expressing myself.” It was twistedly comical, admitting to difficulty with emotions while his son stared at him with a blank expression.

“I suppose I should start with your mother and I’s relationship.”

“She led me to believe it was one of love that was blockaded by forces outside of your control.”

Bruce sighed and sat down on the bed, gesturing for Damian to join him.

“It was love, once. Before she…assaulted me. That’s part of why it was difficult for me to accept the truth of that night. That I did not consent to our encounter. That she had rendered me incapable.” Damian curled in on himself and it tore at Bruce’s _soul_ that he couldn’t comfort his son until he had finished saying his piece.

“When I said I let the resentment fill me, son, I didn’t mean that I resent _you_. Resentment…it’s a mixture of disappointment, fear, and anger. It’s the best word for what I feel for your mother.”

“I understand if you do not like me, Father. I have not been the ideal child. I have killed many times. I…I am not a good person.”

“Damian, no,” Bruce snapped, “Don’t talk about yourself like that. I’ll admit, I had my doubts about you at first. But you have shown me that, more than anything, you want to be good. I saw it when you chose to stay with me. I saw it when you stopped killing. I saw it most when you smiled at Dick when he wasn’t looking. I see it in your animals. I see it in the fact that you went out of your way to bring Tim back into the fold and protect him. You may still be prickly, son, but your actions expose your good heart. I’m proud of you, son. You have surpassed Talia in every way that matters.

“Now, back to what I was saying. For a long time now, I’ve resented your mother. I was afraid of her coming after me again, pissed off that she’d hurt me in the first place, and disappointed that I’d probably never be able to see her punished for the crime. But once I found out about you, the cause of my resentment shifted. I know everything she did to you, Damian. She dropped the files on my desk along with a ring she’d stolen from my mother’s jewelry chest.

“Reading those files, I…I hated her, for the first time. I could never bring myself to hate her for my own sake. But when I found out all she’d done to you, how she hadn’t even had the basic decency to care for her own child, I really started to hate her. I was enraged at her for hurting you, afraid of you going back and me never seeing you again. You aren’t a reminder of my trauma or a disappointment to me, son. It’s just that I…I feel guilty. Guilty that I couldn’t save you, couldn’t protect you from her. You suffered so much, Damian, and she’d taught you that that was what love was. I’m sorry that I made you think you weren’t loved. I’m not the best at expressing myself, which is something that I’m going to work on. I love you, son. And I’m so, so proud of you for going to therapy. That’s a hard step to take and I’m glad you took it.”

“You’re…really proud of me?” Damian said quietly. Bruce stood and kneeled in front of Damian, taking his son’s hands in his own and looking Damian in the eyes.

“Yes, Damian. I’m proud of you. You’ve done so well, adjusting to a new life and being held to different standards. I love you, son. Never doubt that.”

“Father, may I have a… _hug_?” Damian said with faux disgust. Bruce smiled.

“Of course, Damian.” His son dove towards him with the speed of an assassin and wrapped his arms around his father. Bruce hugged him back, marveling at how tiny his son was. He rarely let Bruce hug him.

“I love you, Father,” Damian whispered into his shoulder. Bruce smiled and kissed the top of Damian’s head.

“I love you, too, son.”

* * *

Jason slunk into dinner that night as satisfied as a cat who’d gotten the jewels. Roy followed, looking a bit worn out. Dick wolf whistled as they sat down.

“Shut the fuck up,” Roy grumbled, “We weren’t having sex. He made me watch Pride and Prejudice adaptations for eight hours.” The family burst out laughing.

“We fucked before the marathon,” Jason added with a smirk. Roy whacked him on the arm.

“Your five-year-old brother is sitting _right there_ ,” he hissed.

“So? He probably knows about sex.”

“He does read the Book of Enoch,” Duke said.

“I just think it’s neat,” Terry said cheerfully as he reached for some bread. He frowned as he failed to grab it. Bruce handed him a roll.

“Thanks, Dad!”

“You’re welcome, Terry. So why the Book of Enoch?”

“I found it on Grandpa’s shelf marked ‘interesting read’ and thought it would be fun. Everyone’s names are, like, _really_ hard to pronounce and I’m not sure what all is going on but I’m having a good time!”

“That’s great, kiddo.”

“I have something to say,” Tim said, “Dick and I are no longer fighting. He has been forgiven.”

“Aww, Timmy, don’t take away the family drama. It’s my lifeblood,” Jason whined.

“Then start your own.”

“Fine. I guess I’ll tell you all what I _really_ think of you. Duke, you’re too calm and it freaks me out a little bit. That time when you lost your shit over the way B eats hamburgers was very reassuring. I don’t really have any issues with you, I just wonder why someone so sane would choose this family.

“Steph, you’re chill. That’s all.

“Cass, you’re an angel and we’re glad you’re here. Please continue being incredible.

“Terry, you’re five. I wish I was five. I wouldn’t have to pay taxes. Not that I do anyway.

“Neva is a baby. I would never hate on a baby.

“Damian, you’re kinda psycho sometimes but you’re doing better lately, and I respect that. Also, your mom sucks ass, just sayin’.

“Bruce, you’re a bitch.

“Dick, sometimes you’re a stupid motherfucker and I want to beat you to death with a baseball bat. I only make death jokes as often as I do because I find it immensely satisfying to see you cringe over that and I may or may not be getting revenge for you being a prick to me way back when.

“Tim, I took advantage of you being unconscious and on the verge of death to replace half the coffee in your apartment with decaf. You’ll never know which half.”

“You twisted son of a bitch,” Tim uttered, eyes gone a flinty blue-grey, “You’re going to catch these hands.” He launched himself across the table at Jason.

“Master Tim,” Alfred cried out in dismay, “You’re going to rip your stitches!” But it was too late. Tim had Jason pinned to the ground and a knife in his hand. There was a gleam in his eyes that Bruce wasn’t sure he liked. Jason was cackling, which Bruce definitely didn’t like.

“You think your tiny little knife is going to kill me, Tim?”

“No, but the poison on it definitely is.” Jason’s smile dropped.

“Oh, shit,” he swore, trying to buck Tim off. The younger boy dug his jagged nails into Jason’s button-down shirt and held on.

“Someone help me!” Jason shrieked.

“You threatened his coffee. You reap what you sow, bitch,” said Dick as he took a sip of wine. Neva stirred and began to fuss. Wally began to rock her gently and shush her.

“Why does Tim have a poisoned knife?” Bruce muttered.

“Ra’s gave it to me as a birthday present.”

“Alfred, next time we see him you should just take that creep out. Tim, give me the knife. I’m disposing of it.”

“Can I kill Jason first?”

“You may not.” Tim sighed and got off Jason. He walked over to Bruce and set the knife down in front of him.

“Thank you, Tim.”

“Fuck you,” Tim muttered. He and Jason both sat down again.

“I fear Tim sometimes,” Clark whispered to Duke.

“Anyone with an ounce of common sense is terrified of Tim,” Duke said as he served himself some salad, “I’m not afraid of him because I stay in my lane and so he has no reason to come after me.”

“Huh. Smart.”

“Thank you.”

Bruce stood, picking up the knife.

“I’m going to put this away. Don’t kill each other while I’m gone,” he said.

“Okay, Dad,” his kids replied cheerfully.

“Nope, don’t like that,” Bruce grumbled as he stalked out of the room. The second the doors closed behind him, his kids whipped around to glare at Clark.

“So,” Duke said with a smile, “You’re dating our dad.”

“Uh…yes?”

“You know something, Clark? Bruce is a delicate creature. His heart is very breakable. One wrong move and you can damage him for years,” Dick said.

“He might not seem very emotional, but his emotional constipation is a cover for deep-seated pain,” Damian said.

“Is very sweet man,” Cass interjected.

“Once he considers you family, you’re stuck with him. No matter how much you hurt him, he won’t let you go,” Jason said as he stroked the handle of a gun he’d pulled from his jacket.

“Which is why, should you ever, ever hurt him…” Tim added.

“ _We’ll_ take you down,” Terry finished as he pulled a box out of his pocket and waved it. It was lead. Clark’s blood froze in his veins.

“I-I wouldn’t hurt him,” he protested.

“Of course not,” Tim said agreeably, “But now you know. Just in case.”

When Bruce got back to see his still pale boyfriend and his very pleased children, he sighed and sat down in his chair.

“Really, you guys?” He grumbled.

“Sorry, Dad,” they all replied with grins. He smiled back.

 _Poor Clark_ , he thought, _he’s going to have nightmares for months_.

* * *

After dinner, Tim headed off to the library to find a mystery book to read while Alfred had his computer. He browsed the third floor of the library, running his fingers over the spines of the books.

“Hello, Tim,” Jason purred from behind him. Tim startled.

“Oy vey, Jason, was that really necessary?”

“No, but it was fun,” he replied before draping himself dramatically over a nearby armchair. Tim turned back to the bookshelf.

“So, Tim,” Jason continued, “I have a question. You want to suck Conner Kent’s dick. Why aren’t you?” Tim froze.

“Uhhh…”

“And don’t give me that ‘it’s complicated’ bullshit. If you’re both single and you both are interested it’s very simple.”

“He died, Jason. I can’t lose him again.”

“Oh my god, that’s so fucking stupid. Listen, Tim, I died, so therefore I am qualified to speak on this. We’re all going to die someday. You have to enjoy your time alive or you’ll regret it when a homicidal maniac is beating you to death with a crowbar.”

“I…I can’t, Jason. He’s too important to me for me to let myself get close. Just drop it, okay?”

“Alright, kid,” Jason said sadly, “I won’t talk to you ‘bout this anymore. What I _will_ do is give you a recommendation. Peter May, _The Blackhouse_. It’ll fuck with your head somethin’ fierce.”

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim replied quietly. Jason shrugged before getting up and walking over to Tim. He pulled the smaller boy into a tight hug. Tim struggled to get free.

“Hey, what the hell?” Tim asked.

“Shhh, Timmy. Appreciate the hug. You need more of ‘em.”

“No, I don’t. Get off me,” Tim scoffed as he hugged Jason tighter.

* * *

Jason flicked through Clark’s contacts, finally arriving at Conner’s. He quickly texted him a ‘hey, where are you? Tim is asking.’ He got an immediate reply.

 **Conner:** I’m off the coast of San Francisco. Why? Is he okay?

 **Clark:** He’s fine just VERY high. Alfred has him on morphine for the pain.

 **Conner:** OMG Clark send videos

 **Clark:** I’ll see if I can sneak any past the bats.

Jason immediately deleted all traces of the conversation and bolted from Bruce’s bedroom down the hall to his own.

“Babe,” he said to Roy, “I tracked down Conner. I’m going to bully him into dating Tim.”

“Okay, have fun.”

“You misunderstand, Roy. You’re coming with me.”

“What? Why do I have to come help you get your brother laid?”

“Moral support. Backup. I just want to spend time with you.”

“Fine,” Roy whined, “I’ll grab my go bag. Are we stealing Bruce’s jet?”

“Of course we are. What do I look like, a guy who owns jets?”

“You do own a jet.”

“Yeah, but I bought it with a card I stole from Bruce. So, therefore, it doesn’t count.”

“You’re such a bitch,” Roy groaned as he pulled his bag from the closet, “I wish I wasn’t madly in love with you.” 

“Love you too, Roy.”

They hopped into the jet, dropping their bags haphazardly. Jason took the pilot’s seat, putting on the headset.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Bruce asked.

“I’m getting Tim a boyfriend. He’s a depressed little bastard and he needs constant affection.”

“Fine, I guess I can allow you to take the jet for that. Just ask next time. And be tactful, Jason. I don’t want Tim getting spooked and bolting.”

“Bruce,” Jason gasped in dismay, “I am the picture of delicacy. How dare you suggest that I am capable of any less!”

“Oy gevalt, I need a drink,” Bruce muttered as he walked off. Jason laughed, shutting the plane door behind his father. He skillfully guided the plane out of the cave onto the runway on the property and they took off.

* * *

Kon was taking a break.

It was a well-deserved break, in his opinion. Between the mission he’d been on and worrying about Tim, he was exhausted. So he had flown out to the Devil’s Teeth and parked himself on Maintop Island, where he was positive no one would bother him. He lay in the sun for hours, feeling the energy buzz through his body as he recharged.

A shadow was cast across him. He opened his eyes to see Jason Todd pointing a gun at his face.

“What do you want, asshole?” He demanded. Jason grinned.

“I want you to go out with my little brother or else.”

“Or else what? You’re going to shoot me? Newsflash, asshole, bullets don’t work on me.”

“Well you see, Conner, I have access to Daddy Bat’s kryptonite vault. These aren’t regular bullets.” Kon sighed, closing his eyes again.

“Shoot me then. I can’t get back together with Tim.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t _want_ to get back together with me.”

“That’s because Timmy’s a dumb bitch. I love him dearly, he’s my favorite brother at the present moment, but he’s dumb.”

“I’m not going to argue with that point, but the fact remains. Tim doesn’t want to get back together. Therefore, we will not get back together.”

“Dios, you two are so dumb. Tim doesn’t want you two to get together again because he’s scared of losing you like he did the last time. He’s still very much in love with you. Trust me, he spent a lot of time talking about how much he wants to suck your dick. The only reason you two aren’t dating is because Timmy is afraid of everyone he loves dying and mistakenly thinks it’s easier if he pushes everyone away. So, instead of you two both being miserable, you should maybe talk to each other about your goddamn problems. And get together.”

“It’s not that easy! I don’t want to get back together with him either!” Kon snapped. Jason lowered his gun.

“What?”

“When we were dating before, when I died, I hurt him. I…I don’t want to hurt Tim again.”

Jason flung his hands in the air and started pacing around the rock.

“Dios, that’s the dumbest gay shit I’ve ever heard. Okay, listen up, punk. I died. It was tragic. It was very painful. And since I came back, I’ve gained some wisdom. Which is that if you don’t live life to the fullest, you’ll die with a lot of regrets. If you two don’t get your shit together, I’m killing you both.”

“That’s fine, then,” Kon replied as he turned over onto his stomach, “I’d rather die than hurt Tim.”

Jason let out a strangled wail and kicked a rock.

“Fuck this,” he grumbled as he fumbled with his utility belt. He opened it and pulled out a chunk of kryptonite. Kon winced.

“I’m dragging you to the Manor,” Jason said.

“Rao, please don’t,” Kon groaned, paralyzed as Roy came into view, “Harper, what do you see in him?”

“These snazzy Kryptonite arrows he made me, the sex, and his stellar personality,” Roy said, catching the kryptonite that Jason tossed to him. Jason picked Kon up and began carrying him to the Bat Plane.

* * *

Tim’s door was thrown open and Kon was deposited on his bed by a manically grinning Jason.

“I brought you your top,” Jason said, “Now get your shit together. Bye.”

“Jason, wait-” The door was closed and locked, leaving Tim and Kon staring awkwardly at each other.

“Hi,” Tim said awkwardly. Kon smiled back.

“Hi,” he replied.

“What’s this about?”

“Your asshole brother’s decided that we need to be dating so he’s interfering.”

“That’s ridiculous! I told him to back off.”

“Yeah, who is he to tell us what we should do? We’ve got this under control.”

“Duh! If we wanted to get back together, we would just get back together.”

“Of course we would. We’re smart, intelligent individuals.”

“Definitely. We know ourselves better than Jason does. Jason isn’t a telepath. He doesn’t know what’s going on in our heads.”

“And even if we did get together, who’s to say it would be a good idea? It might end badly.”

“We _do_ lead dangerous lives.”

“It’s happened before. Did he tell you we’d regret it as well?”

“Yeah, he did. He really does enjoy using his own death as a means of tormenting us all.”

“That’s one way of coping.”

“Yeah.”

A silence fell over them.

“Kon?” Tim said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“I…I do want to get back together. I’m just…I just terrified of losing you again.”

“I’m scared, too. I love you, but I…I saw what my death did to you, Tim. I don’t want to be the reason you feel that way again.”

“I think…I think Jason might be right. If we’re both worried about the same thing, it’s something we can work on. And we’re just making ourselves miserable this way. Damn it, Kon, I miss you. I’m sick of being lonely.”

“I miss you too, Tim. I want to get back together with you, but if we’re doing this, we’re doing this the right way. Communication. Therapy. All that healthy relationship shit.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Tim said, extending his hand to Kon, who took it in one of his.

“So, are we, uh, back together?” Tim asked.

“I think so.”

“Can we make out?”

“Who am I to deny my beautiful boyfriend what he wants?” Kon teased. He pulled himself up to sit next to Tim as Tim closed his book and set it down on the nightstand.

They stared at each other for about a half second before Kon leaned in and Tim closed the gap between them. They kissed passionately before separating for air.

“Oh, yeah,” Tim whispered against Kon’s lips, “Clark and Bruce are fucking now.”

“ _What_?”

* * *

Clark chuckled as he overheard the last of Tim and Kon’s conversation.

“What?” Bruce asked, finally looking away from his laptop. Clark smiled and ran his hand through Bruce’s hair.

“Tim and Kon are back together.”

“About time,” Bruce grumbled, “This will be good for Tim. He needs more attention from people outside of his family.”

“It’s funny how much alike the two of you are.”

“We’re not _that_ alike.”

“You really are. You’re both stubborn as hell, for one. You both are some of the most intelligent people alive, but you’re both stupid at emotions. You’re both great fighters. Face it, Bruce, he’s just like you.”

Bruce looked pained.

“What is it?” Clark asked, concerned,

“I…I never wanted any of my kids to turn out like me. That was, in fact, almost the opposite of my goal. I think…to me, Tim is distressingly similar to me but he’s better than I am. He’s a good kid. He never gave up on me being alive. He never stopped loving the Drakes, even after how horrifically they treated him. He’s strong, Clark. Stronger than me.”

“…He’s your favorite, isn’t he?”

“I would never have a favorite child,” Bruce protested.

“Sure, Bruce.”

“I’m a better parent then that, Clark.”

“I agreed with you.”

“Right,” Bruce drawled.

“I do have a question, though. What’s in that room on the ground floor you keep locked?”

“Oh, my Freddie Mercury shrine.”

“What?”

“He was a legend deserving of veneration, Clark.”

“No, I’m not- a shrine, Bruce, really?” Bruce shrugged.

“I just really like Queen. I’m glad I got a chance to meet Freddie Mercury.”

“Didn’t he die when you were nine?”

“I got lost in the timestream, Clark.”

“And you met Freddie Mercury?”

“Oh, I did a lot more than just _meet_ him,” Bruce replied smugly. Clark shook his head.

“You know what? I don’t want to know.”

“That’s a wise choice, Clark.”

* * *

When Kon and Tim came down to dinner holding hands, Jason let out a wolf-whistle.

“That’ll be 50 dollars, Dickie-bird.”

“Fuck you, Jan,” Dick grumbled as he pulled out his wallet, “Tim, couldn’t you have held out for a couple more hours?”

“Sorry for prioritizing my happiness over your wallet, Marcia.”

“Conner,” Bruce said icily, “I used to think there was no one worthy of Tim.”

“Oh, uh. Thank you, sir.”

“I still think that.”

“Oy vey, Bruce, leave him be. I can take care of myself.”

“Hmm. Of course you can, Tim.”

“C’mon, Dad, I’ve only overdosed on caffeine like, six times.”

“You once tried to pass off a stabbing as a flesh wound.”

“It was a very minor stabbing!”

“You ‘conveniently forgot’ to tell me about being shot.”

“The wound healed fine.”

“You didn’t tell me that your spleen was removed.”

Tim winced.

“Okay, I will admit to fault on that one.”

“Just that one, Tim?”

“Fuck you, Dad.”

“How did you lose your spleen, anyway?” Dick asked.

“Oh, uh. Ra’s stole it?” Bruce dropped his fork.

“He what,” he growled.

“Yeah, I kinda…got stabbed? And then I woke up on the banks of a Lazarus Pit spleen-less. I’m almost 99% sure I wasn’t put in it, though.”

“That’s not great, Tim!” Dick shrieked.

“Well, obviously I would prefer to have my spleen, but unfortunately I wasn’t given a choice in the matter.”

“I’m going to kill him myself,” Bruce snarled, standing up. Clark yanked him back down.

“Dinner first, homicide later.”

“Fuck off,” Bruce grumbled as he stabbed angrily at his potatoes.

“Guys, it’s not that bad. I survived.”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Kon said, putting his head in his hands, “Rao, I love you, but you’re so fucking stupid.”

“What? Why are you all yelling at me?”

“Because only you would describe losing an internal organ as ‘not that bad,’ idiota,” Jason replied. Tim frowned.

“I mean, it’s one I can live without.”

“That is still not good, Tim,” Damian replied.

“Meh-” Tim shrugged- “It’s no big. I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“Not to drag the conversation down,” Duke said, “But you did kinda die three times, like, a couple of days ago. Which is not great.” Tim waved his hand dismissively.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But look on the bright side. I didn’t _actually_ die.”

“Stupid brother. Take more care,” Cass said. Tim ducked his head slightly.

“Why are you all bullying me?” He whined.

“This is not bullying, Master Tim, this is what the youth call a ‘call out.’”

“Not you too, Alf.”

“Apologies, Master Tim. It is merely that I find your self-destructive behavior exhausting to deal with and alarming to observe.”

“Yeah, Tim, we’re doing this out of love,” Jason insisted.

“I’m so done with you people,” Tim grumbled.

“I mean, they’re right and they should say it,” Wally said, “You _do_ need to take better care of yourself, little man.”

“Why do you sound like a middle-aged suburban dad? Did you just get a kid and turned into one? Is your name Carl now? Do you have a barbeque?” Tim snarked. Everyone started laughing except for Wally, who just looked affronted.

“I do not sound like that,” he said.

 “You really do,” Babs said as she wiped her eyes. Neva started crying and was immediately picked up by Dick.

“I think she wants to be fed. Alfred, where are the bottles?”

“I will fetch one, Master Dick. No need for you to get up.”

“I can’t believe I’m an uncle,” Jason muttered.

“You’re pretty much Lian’s stepfather, too,” Roy added as he handed Jason the potatoes.

“I’m so old, Roy.”

“Poor little brother,” Cass teased.

“So, if everyone else is bringing in kids, what are you bringing me, Kon?”

“I have a dog.”

“Perfect. I don’t know anything about childcare.”

“I didn’t either and you all turned out fine,” Bruce said.

“Fine? I died, you big boob.”

“Oh my god, Jason, stop constantly bringing up your death every two seconds.”

“Fuck you, blondie.”

Damian smiled at his plate as the bickering continued around him. His mission was over. His family was whole.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my fic! Let me know if you enjoyed it and please feel free to message me on [my Tumblr](http://asexualkingoftheuniverse.tumblr.com)!
> 
> This fic is part of a series, and the sequel is in the works rn. I'll keep y'all posted via my Tumblr as to its status. 
> 
> Have a great day!


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